


The Death Curse

by Skullszeyes



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bisexual Male Character, Blood, Blood Drinking, Developing Relationship, Feral Behavior, Friendship, Gangs, Human/Vampire Relationship, Humor, Investigations, Late Night Writing, M/M, Magical Realism, Murder, Near Death Experiences, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, POV Third Person, Possessive Behavior, Reapers, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Smoking, Soul Bond, Spies & Secret Agents, Swearing, Vampire Bites, Vampire Turning, Vampires, Violence, Werewolves, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22998181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullszeyes/pseuds/Skullszeyes
Summary: Every coven has been quiet within their own respected territories, at least until Jaren finds himself investigating the murder of an alpha werewolf, at the same time, trying to figure out the connection between a newly turned vampire and a group of witches. To make matters worse, his own fate with death is getting too close for comfort when a friend of his dreams of the link between him and another begins to deteriorate.
Relationships: Brock Barrus/Brian Hanby, Evan Fong/Jonathan | H2ODelirious, John | KryozGaming/SMii7Y
Comments: 7
Kudos: 67





	1. Grey

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because of my inability to write The Dwellers anymore. I sort of had an existential crisis over it, and hadn't realized how dramatic I can actually be. I decided to create a new story from the ashes of that story. Somewhat because of my own irl problems that have to do with my older sister. I guess I just needed a change. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.

It didn’t happen often when the leader of a pack of werewolves was murdered. Jaren spent time standing outside of the white rundown house, holding a cup of coffee in his hand, while the other held his phone that was pressed against his ear. He was called in about nine-thirty when he was about ready to head to bed. The news of what happened was spreading quick, and Jaren had to be at the scene to understand the complete impact of what was about to occur. 

“It’s a mess,” Jaren said into the phone. “The place will be cleaned up in the next twenty minutes once Charon gets here.”

“And what about the wolves?” his friend, Evan, asked. 

Jaren sighed. This was so incredibly messy that he couldn’t believe that it came to this. In all his lifetime, he had never seen this happen before, and he was assigned to it when he should’ve slept. “I’m not sure, they’ll want to confirm the body before it’s examined.”

“His scent might help with who did this.”

Jaren took a sip of his cold coffee, and grimaced, before turning away from the flashing red and blue lights. “This is complete bullshit. Who would do this? William wasn’t a threat to anyone, he was a fair leader, rarely making trouble.” Although, he didn’t keep tabs on what was going on within the city, so his own opinion hardly mattered.

“Right now, there’s only speculation, and maybe in a few hours, we’ll figure that out.”

He didn’t exactly have a few hours. William’s second in command, Randall Carson, will take up the mantle as leader of The Grey Clan. There will be a dispute about it amongst them, and if anything, they will also want retribution and justice for the death of William Grey.

“I’ll have to speak to Randall about this,” Jaren said, not liking the idea. He rarely associated himself with werewolves, but since William is now dead, there was no choice except figure out who had killed their Alpha. He already checked out the body, and William did not die the way werewolves usually go out. Something else had attacked him, and he was getting the feeling that once the wolves learn of this, their own accusations will make trouble for the other clans in the city.

Evan chuckled. “At least he’s not as aggressive as the others.”

“No, I guess he and William had that in common.” Jaren sighed as he walked away from the house. “I’ll phone you later.”

“Alright, have fun.”

Jaren rolled his eyes and hung up the phone. He was two blocks away when Charon’s white vans drove past him. 

He called Orion and gave them a report about what was going on and what he had seen. He had taken pictures of William’s body, including any evidence that the police officers and detectives had found inside the house. He overheard their whispers about the sight of William Grey. Young in appearance with short black hair, dark eyes that made his skin look more sickly than a normal person’s complexion. He was lean, about five foot and eleven inches, not as threatening as most pack leaders. He had gained the loyalty of his people, and kept the title for about six years. There were tattoos along his neck, and he had a strong scent of cigarette smoke sticking to his skin.

Well, of course he had only been in William’s presence on two separate occasions. Once when he stood on the far end of the room. The second time was of course when he was knelt before his corpse, and had a camera in his hand, the flash bright enough to reveal all the deep open scars of whoever had attacked him. There were even deep bite marks, knife wounds, and a bullet hole in a few places. Whoever had attacked William did a lot to keep him down.

The sight of his corpse might also elicit a bad response from the other wolves from his pack. He was hoping in some way that Randall wouldn’t be fueled with both grief and pain over his loss that he’d demand retribution before they gained enough evidence. There could be multiple people involved.

Not anyone can just take down an Alpha.

About an hour and half later while Jaren sat in a coffee shop, he was notified that there was an attack at Club Trinity. He rushed to his car and drove toward the downtown area of the city. He parked his car on the side and spotted a few police officers and Orion agents speaking to the party goers who were outside, the chatter amongst them flooded the entire area. 

He took out his badge of whoever tried to stop him from entering, and sauntered around, glancing at the men and women who was traumatized by what they had seen, or what they experienced. Some had splatters of blood on their skin, others didn’t. Some of them spoke vaguely, mostly that when the screams started, they were all rushed out. Not everyone knew why.

The club itself was a two story dark building with red doors, and wide windows. Light leaked out from the open doors that were held in place by two metal chairs. A woman was sitting on one of them, smoking a cigarette that burned halfway. She had a faraway look in her brown eyes, and from the way she was shaking, and the blood on her skin, she had been the closest to whatever happened.

Jaren approached her, taking out his phone and pressing record the second he stopped in front of her. “I’m Jaren Smith,” he introduced in an almost dull sounding voice that most likely would have given him a reprimand from a few associates in Orion. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“I already spoke to the police,” she said, tapping her smoke and letting a bit of ash fall to the ground. Her brown hair was done up with faint streaks of blonde, her skin was beige with the traces of silver glitter along her eyelids, and down her neck, some had fallen on her legs and her fingertips where they were stuck to the cigarette. She looked like she had fun at some point before the attack. The obvious drops of blood on her arms was indication she had been incredibly close to whoever had done this.

“I’m not the police,” he told her. “I’m from another division that handles these kinds of issues a bit more efficiently.”

When he said this, he was aware of the way her gaze flickered down then back up, her thoughts moving around inside her head until the realization of what he meant came to the forefront of her mind.

“You’re one of _them_ ,” she said, not bothering to look at him.

It wasn’t spoken in contempt, only mild surprise. Not like Orion wanted people to know, but they were never sent out for typical murders. This was a strange coincidence that had more than one agent out on the field. It was necessary since William Grey is dead.

“You spoke to another like me?” he asked her.

“I did.”

“Repeat what you told them, and if you can, tell me more.”

The woman peered up at him, and there was fear lacing in her brown eyes as the memory surfaced. Her trembled lips opened, and she relayed everything she told the other agents, then a bit more. She even sparked another cigarette after she flicked the burned one to the ground.

“There was only one?” he asked, confused. 

She nodded, seeming drained after recounting the recent event. “They don’t do that…” she said, her jaw clenching, “you know that, right? It’s against the _rules_ to do that...and yet there was one inside the club, attacking people, _ordinary_ people, and everything was a blur after that.”

Jaren pressed the stop button, thanked the woman for her cooperation and walked away. He stood on the sidewalk, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. This night was dragging on, and he only realized shortly that he had forgotten his coffee. He was about to head back until he noticed blood on the ground, droplets of it glinting from under the light of the lamp post. There was even a jacket not too far away, the collar had blood staining the fabric.

Jaren glanced back toward the police officers, some of them were flashing their lights toward the other side of the street, and most of them seemed preoccupied at getting the victims or at least the suspects out of the area. The ambulance had also arrived, two in fact. 

Jaren followed the blood, the fabric which he didn’t touch but took a picture of. Then he heard the slight growl through the trees on the other side that led toward an alley. The growl was heavy, a snarl rippling out, and Jaren took out his phone, flicking the light on and found not too far away from him, a dark shape in the shadows. They were lying on the ground, curled slightly on their side. 

It was a bad idea, but it was also his job. Jaren stepped closer toward the person, taking out his gun from within his holster inside his coat. “Are you okay?” he asked, raising his guard up in case they attacked.

With each step, the light began to accentuate the person’s form. Short dark hair, pale sunken skin, and golden eyes. Jaren was slightly confused, he had seen many people and some of them matched the description, but the way this person writhed on the ground, the way they snarled, and the gold began to change, a strange blackness overwhelming it.

“I know you…” Jaren whispered, trying to think of where he had seen him.

Blood. It flowed out of the corner of his mouth.

Jaren gritted his teeth, there was no doubt about it, this was the person who had attacked the humans within Club Trinity. “What you did is against the Covenant, you know that right?”

He was having troubles rising, slow and shaky, more blood seeped out, slipping down his chin, dripping on the asphalt, staining the dark coat he was wearing, the silk shirt underneath. He was too dressed up to have done this on purpose, unless he was the theatrical type.

“Why did you attack them?” Jaren asked, drawing closer. He couldn’t stop looking at the amount of blood that came out of his mouth. When he arrived, he made sure to look for any injuries of the ones who had blood on them, but none of them had a mark on them.. Blood may have sprayed out, but they all seemed more traumatized than anything else.

“You bit someone…” Jaren said, glancing around. There was no one else around them. Did they run once they realized what happened? They can’t be left without treatment, but he had a few hours to figure out where they are before it sets in.

“I tried,” he said in a rough voice, heaving out a breath, “and I tried, but I thought maybe...a mortal would _change_ it.”

What was he talking about? What did he do?

The man spit out blood, which almost hit Jaren who had stumbled back, then the man ran into the shadows of the trees. Jaren cursed under his breath and fired his gun, hearing a grunt, knowing for sure he hit him, but losing him down the alley, and when he reached the next street, Jaren grit his teeth at what he just lost.

He hadn’t been far behind, but now even the lights from the street lights couldn’t tell him anything. The entire street was still and empty. And he had another problem to deal with as he headed back toward the crime scene.

“Shit, this isn’t good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The woman that Jaren talks to is vaguely described as how my sister looks. She liked silver glitter before she stopped wearing it after her bf was arrested.  
> There are a bunch of OC characters in this fic, so if you don't like that typical sort of style of writing, then I guess this isn't the fic for you. :)  
> I'm also venting like I'm doing in The Traitor. My sister was almost killed again. (Yes, again...) And this story was somewhat inspired of what she had to go through, and what I want to be able to internalize in my own way.  
> I'd appreciate it if you don't plagiarize this story. (ex: copy and paste scenes in this fic into your own story.) I had this fic in my files for an entire week because I was having an existential crisis over my writing and my fanfics when my story was plagiarized. I almost deleted my ao3. :/ Besides how dramatic I can be, I decided not to delete it. I'd like to deal with certain situations better in the future. I'm sorry for how I went about it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.


	2. Little Hunter

“I’m going to throw up,” Jaren said, leaning against his car.

“Yeah,” Evan said, “I know how you feel.”

He reported in to Orion after he lost the man he had shot. He told a few of the Orion agents to follow the blood and see where it goes. The police officers had stared and muttered to each other when Jaren walked by them.

“Who do you think it was?” Evan asked, clearing his throat on the other line.

Jaren had his eyes closed, trying to think of what his next move was, but the man entered his mind again, and he had seen him somewhere. “I think it was Sebastian,” he said, finally answering after a minute as he opened the door and sat down in the seat.

“Sebastian?” Evan hummed, then he gasped while Jaren tried turning the engine on, and glaring at it when it wouldn’t start. “You don’t mean Sebastian Warren!”

“Yeah,” Jaren said, exasperated while turning the key, “that’s exactly who I mean. He looked familiar, he had a bunch of blood on him, kind of grey, sunken cheeks, hazy eyes…”

“Red?”

“No,” Jaren said, shoulders slumping, all the energy almost leaving him, “it wasn’t red, not the usual kind…”

Evan also sounded perplexed, a lot more interested than Jaren. “What kind of vampire doesn’t have red eyes after they feed?”

“A vampire who doesn’t attack a human nightclub at ten-thirty.” Jaren hit the steering wheel. “It doesn’t make sense. They were black, hazy, and the blood was fresh...he had bitten someone, and they got away.” Who was it? No one had seen anything. The woman had been close, but the rush had sent them out past the steel thresholds and into the crisp night. There was no telling where this person had gone too, and what kind of damage they were in. If it was serious, they’d die pretty quickly, if not...the injury itself will fester, and the infection from the vampire will spread throughout their body. Jaren needed to find them and administer a cure. 

“Can you get Anthony to make a cure for a vampire bite?” Jaren asked, trying the key again, twisting and twisting, listening to the engine hum then fall flat, again and again until the car finally started up. Jaren glanced down at his phone as he drove away from the nightclub. “Evan?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’ll get him to do it,” said Evan, sounding distracted. “Randall and his second are with Charon right now, examining the body. They’ll deal with that side of the investigation, but I’m sure you’ll also be notified.”

“I guess I won’t be sleeping tonight,” Jaren said, trying his best not to sound petulant. 

Evan chuckled, the sound warm in Jaren’s chest. “I guess not. I’ll sleep for you if it makes you feel any better.”

He sighed, “I guess so. I might have to drink more coffee. I’ll call you if anything pops up.”

“Alright, good night, _SMii7y_.”

The name was something they had come up with when they were younger, a nickname of sorts, and somewhat spoken in an affectionate way, but mostly they taunted one another with their respective names.

Jaren muttered Evan’s nickname while going down a street to his left. He parked it beside a group of pastel looking apartments, and decided to get more information about what is happening on the werewolves side of it. He’s not really sure of telling anyone about Sebastian Warren’s appearance yet, at least not until the scent is revealed, then he’ll bring it up.

Jaren sighed deeply as he placed the phone to his ear, and tapped his finger against the steering wheel. He hadn’t turned the heat up in the vehicle, and mostly sat in the night cold air. He needed to be awake for what was going on, he just hoped he can get a coffee later, or possibly soon.

The line was answered with a low sounding voice, barely deep, just smooth and bored. “How did you get this number?” Devon asked, the alpha of the west end Wolves Den. He was less intimidating than William Grey had been, but held the same amount of loyalty and strength amongst his own clan to keep everyone else in check.

“I don’t know,” Jaren responded honestly. “Orion passes over numbers and names every few weeks.”

Devon scoffed, sounding amused. “So _little hunter_ , what do you want?”

“I’m hoping to ask you questions about William Grey.”

“Ah, yes,” Devon said, “I’ve heard about that not too long ago. Has Randall figured out who killed him, or has he died as well?”

“Randall’s fine, for the time being.” Jaren glanced in the rear view mirror, there was a light of a car driving past him. “There are some things I can’t inform—”

“I understand the seriousness of the situation, just ask your question.”

One. So confident of what Jaren wanted to ask him, but the idea of it was impossible. He had seen William’s body, he knew it wasn’t a wolf that had done it. The way the marks were didn’t come from another werewolf. It was replicated to look like it did. 

“I wanted to know about what your pack is intending to do now that William Grey is killed?” Jaren said, the tension within his own beating heart inside his chest was partially suffocating.

“William is a friend,” Devon said, “or he _was_ a friend, and I wouldn’t have done anything to him, we were on good terms, like all the clans within the city.”

He sounded sincere enough, but it wasn’t what Jaren wanted to hear. “I’m just going to guess that you let your...second, Marcus, loose, am I right?” 

Devon chuckled, then the phone went dead, and Jaren sighed once again. This night was full of deep sighs. He set his phone down in the cup holder, started up his car, and thankfully it didn’t fuck up on him, and he drove down the street. He didn’t go back to Club Trinity, but instead he headed along the other streets where Sebastian was trying to head too.

About two-three blocks away from the club, he parked his car again, and got out. He shivered, and regretted not buying a coffee. Jaren sauntered down the street, glancing around the dark shadows that sunk into the crevices of houses, under trees, and amongst places the street lamps couldn’t touch.

“He went farther out…” Jaren muttered. There weren’t any Orion agents, and he texted a friend of his who was also working there during the late night about any new updates. Evan probably went home anyways, and Anthony...well...maybe he should just text him. Hopefully he got the cure ready, because it’s been about a half hour, and whoever got bit has a few more hours left until the infection takes over.

He was a little worried about what Sebastian had mentioned. He was trying something on a mortal. What did that mean exactly? And why was his eyes going a hazy black?

Vampires did not do that.

Jaren had been around vampires more than werewolves. He saw them when they were hungry, a blood lust that is hardly unstoppable unless the vampire is practically bathed in blood. Which is a terrible feat for Orion to deal with, and usually a vampire clan has a leader anyways to handle fledglings.

He walked another block, then another, and he checked his phone while standing in the center of a dead street. At least until he felt something watching him. A strange sensation that he recognized, but when he glanced around, no one was there. It was only him, alone with his phone staring up at him with eleven forty-five in the corner of his screen. 

“No need to get paranoid, not now,” Jaren said, letting out a nervous laugh. It was actually one of the things that somewhat got him in trouble. His nervous laugh. The anxiety spiking that made up his defense mechanism in the face of danger. Instead of being wide-eyed and afraid, his heart raced, his hands shook, and then he would be laughing, giggling, trying his hardest to shut the fuck up. It almost got him killed in the past, and he’s been trying to break it down since.

He crossed another street and came to halt at the corner of 14th block Rae, and spotted a hefty black wolf on the other street of him, staring with blinking white eyes. He had seen normal wolves, but the werewolves were bigger, like strange monsters born of shadows like all the other strange creatures Jaren had seen in his life.

“Shit,” Jaren said under his breath, then the wolf sprinted out of his sight, and Jaren was bolting down the street to catch up, which was a laughable thought, he wasn’t going to catch up with a werewolf.

He could try, and he was trained to track down certain creatures like this. However, tonight didn’t seem like it was going to be as difficult. The wolf appeared at the end of the street, abnormally large and fierce as it sat in the center of the road.

“You want me to follow you?” he asked, and sprinted after the wolf as it turned around and began to run down the long road to the end, then it disappeared into the darkness of a park. 

Jaren had gotten there when the growls and snarls started up, but it wasn’t coming from the wolf. It was standing a few feet away from him in a human form. He had already sparked up a cigarette wearing only black jeans with rips on the knees, no shoes in sight. He had shoulder length black hair, a soft tan complexion, and dark eyes. He didn’t seem all that interested in what was going on at his feet while two other large wolves encircled the area, making sure the dark form with strange ash blonde hair writhing on the ground was contained.

Marcus, the second in command under Devon, narrowed his eyes at Jaren. “Took you long enough, _little hunter_.”

Jaren ignored the spite in Marcus’ voice, and pulled out his phone. He was about to turn his light on when one of the wolves growled at him. Jaren glared back and said, “This is officially Orion’s business, not just the west end’s.”

“It’s ours,” Marcus spat, his glare was heavy in the dark beneath the orange glow of his cigarette. “We can smell the stink of blood mixed together, and not just mortal, something raw and foul. It may be part of regulation for you, but now that one of the Alpha’s is dead, and the stench coming off this _thing_ is undeniable, things will escalate to an extreme level.”

“We’ll contain it,” Jaren said, already placing his phone to his ear.

“Quarantining this _abomination_?” Marcus asked, then taking a long drag while glaring at Jaren who was glaring right back.

“It’s either this or contacting Jen,” Jaren said, watching Marcus recoil at the name of one of the vampire leaders in the city.

He hadn’t expected Marcus to stay, nor from the looks of it, Landon and Eva. Both of them stayed in their wolf form while Marcus stood in the shadows with a cigarette between his fingers. It wasn’t long until Orion agents had arrived, and as Jaren stepped back, he had a good look at the fledgling that was still writhing in the dirt.

He blinked, unsure of what he had seen. The fledgling had black blood leaking from its mouth, the pale skin was slick with sweat, but the veins underneath made it look abnormal. More than usual on a newly turned vampire. He hadn’t seen his eyes from the way his white hair draped over his face, and when the Orion agents picked him up, he wasn’t able to fight when they administered a strong sedative to knock him out in several seconds.

By the time they left, and Jaren was about to head back down the street, the wolves were already gone, and possibly, his night was coming to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The night when my sister almost died, she told me when they were being threatened, the guy who was telling them to go into the basement was patronizing my sister, and my sister started laughing nervously. Her friends asked if she was stupid since the situation they were in was quite dire, and she was even scared of what would happen since she was laughing. It's a defense mechanism because my sister also has anxiety. (I added that bit with SMii7y's character.)
> 
> The names, Devon and Jen, are references to people I or my sister knew irl. (Devon was a childhood friend who killed someone. And Jen is my sister's friend who was also threatened that night. The name William was a friend of mine when I was younger. I also knew a Randall, but I haven't seen him in years.)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.


	3. Containment

For once in his life he would love to have a long drawn out sleep. However, he was nudged awake by Evan who stood over him inside Jaren’s office at Orion. He grinned down at him, wearing a black jacket, and holding a tray with two coffee’s in one hand.

“What time is it?” Jaren groaned as he rubbed his eyes.

“About one…” Evan said, setting the tray down on the messy desk. There were papers everywhere, including a few books. Some had coffee stains on the white pages, and ink marks from the looks of it that came from a broken pen that burst on the inside.

“One…” Jaren grasped for his phone and when he looked at the true extent of the time, he groaned again and set his head on the desk with a thump. “You got to be kidding me. I only slept for an hour.”

“I thought maybe you’d be awake,” Evan said, plopping down in one of Jaren’s leather chairs on the side, “but you didn’t answer any of my calls or text messages, which made me think you fell asleep at your desk.”

“I had to do paperwork…” Jaren explained weakly.

“Yeah, I know, that’s why I brought coffee...maybe it’ll help.”

“Does it have cocaine in it?”

Evan arched a curious brow, “No, but I can get some.”

Jaren sighed and reached for his coffee. He pulled it out of the tray and took a sip. It was warm, and had a thin taste to it. “Why are you here? I thought you went home.”

“Oh, I did, but when I was about to step into my house,” Evan grimaced. “Orion called me back, told me about a fledgling had made it into quarantine. So, unfortunately for us, I had to come back and sort out some of the work on the sides for the others, including you.”

“You’re so generous.”

“I know.”

They both sat in silence with their coffee’s. Jaren trying to wake up from his rather sleepy disposition that only lasted an hour. He tried to do as much paperwork and add in reports, but after awhile, he simply succumbed.

“Have you said anything about Sebastian Warren?” Evan asked.

Jaren blinked at him and shook his head, “Not yet.” It was another thing he’d have to do eventually. Or sooner than later since Randall would end up either at Orion, or questioning up Devon.

“Maybe you should do that,” Evan advised.

Jaren sighed, pushing himself up with his coffee. “Let’s go, I want to see how the fledgling is fairing.”

Evan stood, but went still, and frowned at Jaren. “He’s dead.”

“What?” Jaren asked, wondering if he was still tired.

“The fledgling, he died about half hour ago.” Evan glanced down at his coffee. “I thought you were notified.”

Jaren knew no one had messaged him besides Evan. “I want to see…” They walked out of his office and down the stiff hallway toward the elevator. “Did you find out when you got back?”

“Yeah,” Evan said solemnly. 

It’s strange, even in Jaren’s sleep addled mind. He could feel the tension inside the elevator pulling. The inquiries of the truth becoming blurred by the simple act of death. It shouldn’t have happened like that. He knows it shouldn’t. When he first came to Orion, they had taught him everything, practically ingrained the knowledge inside his head to the point he didn’t have to ask questions.

Humans turning into Vampires don’t die that quickly.

It takes almost a day or two to take full affect. The infection itself is horrendous, the transformation unbearable. They’d have to be quarantined until they gained a grasp of a sense of self, or once the cure was administered to their blood stream that eliminates the infection before it could take root.

It was a more troubling thought if the human had died to the infection right away. It made Jaren think of what Sebastian had done, and brought up more questions of what it meant.

Once they left the elevator, they walked down another long hallway, empty of people, with closed doors and dark rooms. There was always a strong smell of dust, floor cleaner that made the building feel sterile, and the small annoyance of coffee that had a staleness to it. Other than that, he hated office buildings for the odd enclosed spaces even how open it was.

“Is anyone else awake?” Jaren asked as they walked down another hallway to their right. This one was shorter, and when they stepped past the threshold, they waved at a few secretaries sitting at their desks. They kind of just stared with bland expressions while Evan and Jaren continued on their way toward the Containment Sector.

“Anthony was too late to administer the treatment to the fledgling,” Evan said with a sigh. “He was a little dismayed by that fact once Brock confirmed _he_ died inside the cell.”

“How did it go exactly?” Jaren asked. He knew how vampires turned, he had seen it a few times in the past when the Covenant allowed certain people to be turned and sired to one of the vampire clans in the city. It took awhile to get the approval, of course, and some humans usually regretted the decision and backed out.

It was fever like symptoms. Sick and twisted, they’d claw at their skin, tear their clothes off, break a few bones. They’d cry and scream, and try to break out of the cell. It was reinforced to take the brunt of a vampire attack, so they weren’t exactly getting out even if they wanted too.

“Quick,” Evan said, meeting Jaren’s eyes, “it was quick. And confusing to Brock, he wanted to do more tests while the fledgling was dead.”

“Did he?” 

“He’s still trying to get back to us about what he found, but currently, the fledgling is dead, Sebastian Warren is walking around as his sire, and one of the alpha’s in the city was murdered,” Evan said, taking another sip of his coffee.

At least Jaren wasn’t the only one that was tired. They walked toward a metal scanner, and stepped through. It did beep, but the security guard didn’t stop them from sauntering toward containment. There were a lot more cells throughout the sector for various creatures that got out of hand, or at least were still being studied.

Most of them were labeled already, and the most common were the vampires and werewolves. Sometimes a witch, but they hardly stayed for a full day before being released.

Evan grabbed his keycard and scanned it over a red light on the side of a metal door. It turned green right away as he grasped the handle, and pulled it open. Once they were inside, it was much more cooler and less restrictive.

“Brock,” Evan waved. He stood down the hall, wearing a white lab coat, and holding a tablet. He was marking things off with a woman standing beside him, then he passed her the tablet and she walked away from him.

“Good…morning?”

“It’s one,” Jaren said, agonizing at that fact as he took another sip of his watered down coffee. One of these coffee shops in this damn city should be able to make decent coffee.

“We want to see the fledgling,” Evan said with a pleasant smile.

Brock nodded, looking partially nervous. “I see...I...uh...he’s alive.”

“Alright, let’s go then,” Jaren said, wanting to get this over with. He’d have to tell Randall about Sebastian, but he wasn’t sure if he should get into contact with Jen and inform her of this detail either. Of course he’d have to speak to the head of Orion before that happened so he can have a better decision of what he was going to do.

Brock nodded and led them down the hall. He went on about the strangeness of the fledgling turning. He hadn’t seen it before, and was still doing tests. Of course it was difficult now that he was awake and moving around.

“Is he coherent?” Evan asked.

“Somewhat,” Brock told them, sounding uneasy. “He’s made a mess on the floor already, and torn one of his shirts.”

Well, at least he was awake, and maybe through the screaming, they could get something out of him. Jaren wasn’t sure if he was still tired, but there was a nervousness running through his fingertips and along his arms to his spine. Randall would surely want retribution over the death of William Grey, including Devon. Dealing with them will have to come after, and he was partly glad that they weren’t in Orion for the time being as he conducted his investigation.

“Has there been any news about the wolf packs?” Jaren asked.

“Nothing at the moment,” Evan answered, “but I have Jon looking into it, so hopefully in the next hour, he’ll inform me of their movements.”

At least he was assured of that, now he only needed to deal with the fledgling. They rounded a corner and came to a wide window that looked within one of the containment cells. This one was bigger than most, and usually housed a werewolf or something more dangerous. 

Jaren expected to see a hysterical, frenzied, fledgling. Not one puking black blood from his mouth, tears running down his face as he was on his hands and knees, fingers drenched in the blood, his clothes were wrecked, soaked, and there were even places on his arms where the skin was torn open thanks to the fledglings nails.

“How long has he been doing that?” Jaren asked, indicating the blood.

“Since he woke up,” Brock said, crossing his arms and frowning. “They don’t do that. His eyes have also changed to a strange black instead of red. It’s a different sort of development that we haven’t seen in vampires.”

“Have _you_ seen it before?” Evan inquired.

Brock shook his head, “Personally, no, but I had Anthony look through the archives to find if there ever was one recorded.”

Jaren stepped closer to the window, examining the fledgling. He looked about their age, maybe older. His blonde hair was streaked with black blood, and some of it was torn out, left on the ground in a clump. He was panting hard, teeth gritted, then he coughed up more blood. It was an agonizing process by the way he gasped, choked, and moaned at the disgust slipping past his lips. Even his own body shuddered while more blood seeped out.

“What is it?” Jaren asked. “The blood, why is it that color?”

Brock sighed. “I took samples, and from the looks of it, it’s simply his blood. Changed somehow, and if anything, we might get more clarification of who his sire is, and if one of the werewolves comes here to sniff him out. I already sent a word out to the new Alpha in the Grey Clan.”

Jaren sucked in a breath as he twisted around, whatever sleep he felt against his mind was now gone. “You called them?”

“About fifteen minutes ago, they should be here…” Brock said as he watched Jaren rush down the hallway, Evan following behind. 

Before they could leave the sector, the door opened to one of the security guards letting in Randall Carson and his second, Avery Kim. Both werewolves looked down at him, their golden eyes seeming disinterested until Randall recognized him.

“Jaren Smith, right?” Randall asked, sounding formal and reserved. Similar to William, Randall was lean, pale, with black spiky hair and burnished colored eyes. He didn’t hold the same intimidation an Alpha usually has, but overtime, he might even gain that through the loyalty of his people. He wore a black coat with a white pressed shirt, the collar undone, and black dress pants with shiny black shoes. He was really...something. “You’re the investigator who seen William’s body.” At least he was taking this all in stride.

Jaren nodded, what he wanted to tell Randall was stuck in his throat, and he watched as Randall and Avery wandered past, directed by Brock who was telling them about the fledgling.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Evan asked him.

Jaren slumped his shoulders. “I don’t know, I was expecting something else, maybe anger or grief, but…”

“Vampires deal with death differently than mortals,” Evan told him.

Jaren nodded slowly, then they turned and joined the others with the anticipation of what he was going to tell the new Alpha and his second that there was a possibility a vampire killed William Grey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not much to reference in this fic besides my love for coffee, and my dislike for certain coffee shops that don't know how to make decent coffee. :/
> 
> I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.


	4. Control

Jaren was nervous when he stared at the fledgling within the containment cell. He was no longer puking up the black blood, and was growling, ripping the rest of his shirt, and digging his fingernails into his skin. The sight of it was deeply disturbing as tears streaked down his face. He was saying something, but it was hard to understand as he slammed his hand down on the floor, the blood splashing upon his skin, into his hair, and along his shoulders.

A ragged scream tore itself from his throat, then his fingernails went to his neck where the bite was. The pale skin was dark around the wound, and he could see the veins beneath had also become dark. He scratched at his shoulder, on his arms, heaving out pants until he fell into the pool of blood.

This time, Jaren was able to see his eyes more clearly. He had risen, gritting his teeth and glaring at them on the other side of the glass. His eyes were shadowed, and the iris itself was a hazy black instead of a maroon shade that usually was found in starved vampires.

“We’ve called it Feral, for now,” Brock said, arms crossed as he stood on the other side of the two werewolves, while Jaren and Evan stood on their left. “The symptoms are quite new for a newborn, so we’re planning to do tests in the coming days.”

“Can you open the door?” Randall asked, sounding more interested than angry. It was a strange tone that left Jaren feeling odd. He wasn’t sure what Randall would do within the containment alongside the _Feral_ vampire. His sense of self hadn’t centered yet, which would be dangerous for the average human.

“I’d say it would be a bad idea, and I’d need confirmation from a few higher ups,” Brock said, turning toward them, “but I’m also hoping this could somehow help the investigation.”

“It will,” Jaren and Randall said at the same time. 

Brock told them to wait a second as he administered a light anesthesia into the air vent within the containment cell. It’ll hold off the vampire if it tries to do anything it shouldn’t.

“I’ll be right back,” Randall told Avery, a small smile pulled at the corner of his lips as a way to reassure her.

The woman had short black hair with a fair complexion. She wore a black and white pant suit, and was staring indifferently at the vampire. Jaren had seen her before, but hadn’t been as close to her as he was now.

“You’ll be okay, right?” Evan asked while Randall followed Brock toward the door that would lead them into the containment cell.

“It’ll probably be a second,” Jaren said, passing his coffee to Evan and telling him to throw it away. Then he hurried over to Randall and Brock as the thick metal door opened. The stink of blood was raw as it wafted into Jaren’s nose, he covered a part of his face while the door began to close behind them. A precaution, but it still unnerved him now that he was inside a room with a werewolf and a newborn vampire. He had his gun, but he didn’t think it would stop either of them if it came to it.

The black blood had created a puddle on the ground where the vampire had torn his clothes, and pulled hair from his scalp. The stink of it was potent, as if there was something rotting inside the newborn vampire and he was trying his hardest to expel it from his body.

“Vampires don’t have this effect,” Randall told Jaren. He was standing a foot from the puddle, watching the vampire growl and snarl, then whimper as more blood left his mouth. It seemed his own emotions were torn apart by what he was experiencing. A confusion coiled deep inside of him that also yanked him into uncontrollable rage, then thirst, hunger, and pain. 

Jaren had never been inside a room with a vampire like this. He had only watched their transformation. To understand what they were going through, and to see it first hand. It was part of his training when he was recruited into Orion. It was mandatory. 

“Puking blood?” Jaren asked, and almost wondering if he’d ever get the festering scent out of his nose after this.

“Yes,” Randall said, sounding perplexed and nonchalant. “They don’t do this. His body is rejecting the infection, and the infection is speeding up the turning, doing so is changing the affect of the vampire. It’s almost mindless…”

“Have you seen anything like this before?” Jaren asked. He stood a foot away from Randall, and he was almost surprised Randall had allowed him to enter the containment cell with him, but whatever opinion he wanted to voice hadn’t come. Jaren almost wanted to leave, but there’s no point in thinking about that now.

“In certain situations,” Randall said flatly, “it’s a rare occurrence.”

_What did that mean exactly?_

“ _You_ haven’t seen it, is what you mean, right?” Jaren inquired, watching the vampire gasp for breath once he was able to stop puking. His entire body was tense, his skin becoming an eerie grey, while the bite mark grew darker, spreading throughout his body.

“It rarely comes up in conversation,” Randall responded, then he stepped into the blood, not concerned about his shoes or the hem of his pants as they dipped into the black, sticky, puddle. He reached down quick and grasped the vampire’s face with one hand, fingers digging into his jaw, and pulling him up.

Jaren didn’t move, he watched the look the vampire was giving the werewolf. The fear in his eyes as he seemed to smell what creature was in front of him.

“What is your name, fledgling?” Randall asked the vampire in a smooth undisturbed voice.

He opened his mouth, wet with black blood, yet no words escaped him. He trembled, fingers curling at his sides. Jaren wasn’t even sure if he was going to try to attack the werewolf at all.

Jaren knew that werewolves and vampires had distinct scents toward one another. It’s the reason why vampires don’t hunt them for sustenance. The curse upon werewolves are repulsive toward vampires. A negative-negative effect of who they were to one another. Creatures on different spectrums, yet similar in design. Even the werewolves were disgusted by vampires, yet over time, the two species have become more cooperative to one another because of the Covenant pact that kept them from tearing each other apart.

“What is your name?” Randall asked again, tightening his grip and pulling a whine past the vampire’s mouth.

“J-John…”

“My name is Randall Carson.” He dropped the vampire into the puddle and stepped back alongside Jaren who took a sidestep from Randall. “This is Jaren Smith, an investigator who made sure a pack of wolves didn’t tear you apart. You should be grateful, fledgling, that you’re alive at all.”

John gasped, trembling, as if he had been pushed underwater, trying to gain a single breath of air. He looked between them, his eyes still hazy, his skin grey, veins pulsing black. “W-Where am I? Why am I here?”

Jaren frowned at the desperate questions. “An Orion facility. We take care of people like you.”

“Me?” John asked, looking down at the puddle he was knelt in. “Why did this happen...to me?”

“That’s what we want to know,” Randall said. “Your Sire, who are they?”

The question caught Jaren off guard, even if he was waiting for it. A tremble snaked its way up his spine, and he knew he’d have to explain sooner or later.

“I...don’t know, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The panic resumed as he stared down at his bloody hands.

“You were attacked at Club Trinity a few hours ago,” Jaren said. A cold unsettled feeling passed over him for a second then it vanished. “Were you aware of who it was?”

Randall glanced at Jaren, a narrowed look of suspicion. Jaren ignored it, trying his best to keep his composure. He also wanted information on why a vampire had walked into a club and bitten a human. It would be better if they hunted the vampire, but sooner or later, the Sire will want the fledgling, and vice versa. It was only natural for them to have that link.

John shook his head, his voice raspy, broken. “Too many colors, people, everyone was running...I was outside, looking for my friends...and then I was yanked to the ground. I felt pain, but I ran until I couldn’t, and the pain followed...it was too much, and I started to puke up this _stuff_ …” He looked at his hands covered in the black blood, and he whimpered again, a cry falling past his lips.

Jaren sighed. So, the fledgling didn’t know anything, and Randall seemed done with him. The door slowly opened, and Jaren had to ignore the fledgling begging to leave, asking why this was happening to him, then the door closed on his cries as they stepped into the hall with Evan, Brock, and Avery.

Evan had his arms crossed, looking displeased. “It’s a blur then.”

“He had traces of alcohol and drugs in his system when he was brought in,” Brock said with a sigh. “I guess that would make sense to why he didn’t know what was happening before he died.”

“There was something faint about him,” Randall said, standing beside Avery. “I’d rather not accuse anyone yet, but first,” he looked to Jaren, “I want to know what _you_ saw before you found the fledgling, you knew he was bitten, out of anyone in that club, you were only looking for one.”

The questions hung in the air as they all looked at Jaren. He knew he couldn’t hide it anymore. He wanted to tell the director of Orion first, then pass over the information to the wolves, and later the vampire clans. He guessed this night was just going to continue on a downwards streak.

Jaren looked into Randall’s eyes and said, “Sebastian Warren is his Sire.”

The flick of surprise was temporary in Randall’s eyes, but more so in Avery’s. She didn’t speak, but looked to Randall, a silent question of her own left unanswered as Randall contemplated.

“He infected the human without the Covenant's approval,” Jaren said. “I’m sure we all know what he had done beforehand.” The truth of it weighed down the five of them.

Randall sighed, seemingly tired. He could almost see the sadness in his eyes, the stress, his best friend died, he became the Alpha of a werewolf clan in a single night. Jaren wasn’t even sure how he was holding up, but he kept it stoically contained.

“The only way something like this could happen is through a witch,” Randall told them. “However, right now, I have to calm the other clans, including Devon’s. They’ll also want retribution for William’s death.” He looked to Jaren. “Keep Sebastian Warren a secret a bit longer, and that a witch had done this. If anything, Sebastian will be found in a few weeks, either dead or alive, it hardly matters. He only sired one vampire, and right now, we might even be able to use _him_ to find Sebastian.”

Jaren nodded, then Brock was leading Randall and Avery toward the door to let them out of the Containment Sector.

“Well, now I have more reports to work around,” said Evan while Jaren walked toward the glass.

The fledgling was puking again, his body tense, the blood hardly staining his grey skin while the haze in his eyes darkened. He turned his gaze to Jaren, and instead of sadness and confusion, there was rage that snapped his teeth together. The twisting of his own change was going to last awhile until he’s able to talk coherently again.

“He’s not the typical kind,” Evan said, sighing.

Jaren shook his head. No. He wasn’t. He was an answer and a problem. “I’ll need to speak to him a bit more once he’s able to control himself.” If he’s _able_ to control himself.

“What are you going to do in the meantime?” Evan asked.

Jaren rubbed his eyes and let out a deep yawn, “I might go sleep in my office, inform the director about Sebastian’s reappearance, and then figure out how a witch could possibly do this.”

“You doubt Randall?”

“No, not in the least, but I want more information about what is happening.” Jaren was about to walk off when he recalled something. “Can you get a report from Jonathan, I want to know what’s been going on with the wolves.”

Evan pulled out his phone. “I’ll get you something in the next few hours. Have a good few hours of sleep.”

Jaren rolled his eyes and smiled, he waved at Brock who was inside one of the rooms with his assistant, then he walked out of the Containment Sector, hoping a few hours of sleep can help him think more clearly of what is going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Avery was a bf of my sister when she was a teenager. He...was terrible, never seen him since, so that's a good thing. :)
> 
> I was wondering if you want chapter summaries?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.


	5. Dying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaren speaks to the fledgling.

By nine in the morning, Jaren ended up making his own coffee in the cafeteria. There were already more of his co-workers showing up, and most of them greeted him, and others walked past him. He was a little preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice anyone as he walked back to his office.

The first time since last night, he noticed one of the lights flickering down the hall. He didn’t slow when he spotted it, not like he bothered to acknowledge the shift. He kept walking until he stepped inside his office and sat down in his seat behind his desk. The folders he received by Evan, and a few from his other co-workers sat before him.

He had this feeling that sometimes surfaced when he thought too much. Succeed. The itch inside burning him, a reminder, complicated in every way that kept him from sleeping, from thinking, from doing anything else besides what he’s supposed to do. He should succeed, he should work and work and work until he’s satisfied.

_“You’re not that old,” Evan said once, a smile curving upon his lips._

_Jaren nodded, fingers shaking with a pen between them, “I know, but I have to do this.”_

_“You don’t have to exhaust yourself.”_

Jaren could hardly explain it, but Evan knew what he meant, how he felt, and he didn’t like repeating himself.

By eleven, he finished most of his work, and dropped his empty cup into the garbage next to his desk, and he sauntered out of the office. He wanted an update on the fledgling, and because of what’s been happening, he thought of doing this quickly.

Last night, after Randall Carson and Avery Kim left Orion, Jaren had also spoken to the director. He told him everything about what’s been going on, and was instructed to keep everything under wraps from everyone else, at least until they gained more control over the situation, and who killed William Grey.

His work will have to simmer in the back of his mind for now.

He took the elevator to the Containment Sector. He didn’t know where Evan was, or Anthony. It didn’t matter, he messaged Brock that he’ll be headed that way, and apparently there was someone else there while he slept for the remaining few hours until he returns to Orion. Which he was fine with if he can have a few minutes with the fledgling.

There was some questions he wanted to ask, more than the ones Randall had asked him. And Jaren was getting the feeling Randall knew something from the way he didn’t bother lingering within the cell. His sense of smell was stronger than a human’s, and that only made Jaren more curious. However, he didn’t have that luxury and will have to figure out his answers on his own. 

He stood in front of the glass for about five minutes. The blood on the stark white floor was clean, and any torn skin or pieces of clothing were also gone. The cell itself looked like how it did before the fledgling was placed inside.

Jaren walked over to an assistant and asked where they placed the fledgling that was inside the cell. She mentioned another cell that was more enclosed, and told him where to find it. Jaren walked down another set of halls until he entered inside a room that needed his security card.

This area of the Containment Sector was more secure than the other areas of Orion. It was also secluded. 

Was he that dangerous that they had to place him in this area of CS? He must’ve been, most fledgling’s didn’t need this kind of treatment. He’d have to ask Brock more about the specific’s. Right now, he hoped he can get some information out without the fledgling becoming too wild with thirst.

He walked down the dim lit hallway, there was a strange chill in the air that barely seeped in his coat, but enough to give away the stiffness of the halls in the rest of the building.

He found the room that the assistant had referred him too, and opened the door. The quietness became more sealed in as he stepped toward the glass window. It was a one way mirror, and revealed a smaller room from the one the fledgling had been placed in. There was a bed on the side, and nothing else. The bright lights made the stark white of the walls and floors more unbearable.

The fledgling, however, was sleeping on the floor, curled against the wall. He had a change of clothes, a white shirt and pants, no socks or shoes. He looked cleaner, and less disturbed as he did when he was awake.

Jaren found a folder on the side and picked it up. He opened it and read the contents inside. It revealed personal information of the fledgling, including comments from Brock and a few other researchers and doctors.

_John Keyes. Male. 26 years old._

He worked as a waiter, a dishwasher, he also did freelance a few times a year. A few dead end jobs landed him in clubs, spending most of his money on alcohol and drugs. It seemed he didn’t have much for a future either, didn’t think that far ahead.

He read Brock’s reports and found out a doctor had recently administered a sedative into the fledgling. His erratic behavior fluctuated, and they weren’t sure why. They were still figuring out how he turned so quickly, including the newer more aggressive symptoms.

“Hopefully this isn’t stupid of me,” Jaren said to himself as he pressed a button on the side of the door. It opened automatically, and will only open on the outside, however, once he’s in with no one to close it, the door will remain the way it is. He’ll have to be extremely careful, and if the fledgling shows any signs of being aggressive, he’ll have to figure out another time to interview him.

He sighed and stepped into the cell. It was well built for stronger creatures, more hungrier ones that needed a much more tighter area to keep them contained. From the way the fledgling behaved, he had to stay inside this place until they’ll able to gain a better perspective on what he was. 

Jaren stood a foot from the sleeping fledgling. His soft brown hair was splayed on the side, barely covering his pale face. His eyes weren’t as dark as they had been, while the dark veins had even lightened from the last time he saw him.

Swallowing thickly, Jaren nudged the sleeping fledgling once he sat down on the bed. “Hey, wake up, I need to talk to you.”

Truthfully, he had never done this before. He has seen fledgling’s in the past, been inside the rooms of a few when they were awake and less erratic. He had never been inside a room with one that acted in such a violent uncontrollable nature before. Usually a fledgling had a sire to help them, but this one’s sire wouldn’t be any help to them.

Jaren nudged the fledgling again. “Wake up. I need to speak to you.” 

The fledgling groaned after Jaren nudged him again, a bit harder, in the ribs. He turned slightly on his side, pushing away brown hair from his face before blinking his eyes at Jaren. 

He looked less like a fledgling. The pallor of his skin was healthy, while the dark veins were nowhere to be seen around his neck, besides the obvious bite mark that was still healing. It had gone purplish.

“W-Who are you?” the fledgling asked, moving back against his cell until his back hit the wall. He glanced at Jaren, then toward the door that was left open.

Jaren sighed, “If you think of running, I will shoot you and leave you in here for an additional few days while you continue turning.” The threat was mild since he needed to speak to the fledgling, but he also needed him to remain complacent while he asked his questions.

The fledgling breathed, then Jaren noticed his eyes becoming darker, but not to the extent of when he lost control. His hands even went to his neck, fingers curling before smoothing out the red marks he created.

“I’m not...I’m not...going to throw up anymore blood?” He was asking this toward Jaren who had no idea when he stopped throwing up. He still needed a report, and probably will contact Anthony about that later on in the day once Brock shows up. The thought of sticking around grates on the inside of Jaren’s mind.

“I’m not sure when you stopped,” Jaren said. “That isn’t why I’m here, I have a few questions to ask you and I need you to answer them.”

The fledgling was still terrified, panting, shaking, unable to actually stare at him without having a faraway look in his eyes. “You’re...the...the detective with…”

“Randall Carson,” Jaren said, arching a brow.

The fledgling wrinkled his nose, and Jaren almost smiled at the disgust making its way on his features. “Why...it wasn’t the blood...it was him, he smelled…awful.”

“He’s a werewolf, of course he’ll smell awful to vampires.”

The fledgling glanced back at him, brows arching. “Are you fucking kidding me? He couldn’t have been…”

“He is,” Jaren said, taking out his phone, finding the recorder, then pressing the red button to record their conversation. “Randall Carson is the new leader of the Grey Clan after William Grey was killed the other night, an hour after Club Trinity was attacked, including about half hour when I found you.”

“You... _found_ me?” the fledgling asked, confused.

Jaren nodded, “Your sire made it easy to know that he had bitten someone, it was only a matter of time until I found you.”

The fledgling touched the bite mark, then he shuddered, legs pulling close to his chest. “He...bit me...why, why did he do that?”

This was what he wanted to get into. Maybe he’ll find some answers to what is going on. “I need you to go back a bit before it happened, what were you doing inside the club?”

“My friends…” The fledgling shook his head. “Are they okay.” 

“We don’t know,” Jaren told him truthfully. “I’ll get someone to look into it, and inform you.” He wasn’t sure how long the fledgling would remain with Orion, but knowing who his sire is, he wasn’t going to leave anytime soon.

He didn’t really want to think of the implication of that just yet, nor deal with it. He only wanted to speed this investigation so he can go home and sleep. Maybe a few more hours in his own bed will give him a better mindset than this.

The fledgling seemed too occupied with his own thoughts to think about what Jaren had said. He was shaken as worry and shock flitted across his face. It almost seemed as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t say the words to what they were.

“John…” Jaren said calmly, watching the flinch in the fledgling’s demeanor as he slowly raised his eyes to Jaren. “Can you please answer my question. What were you doing before you were bitten?”

“Partying,” John— _the fledgling_ —said, in a matter-of-fact tone, as if it were obvious.

“I get that,” Jaren said, trying to hide the sarcasm that was about to slip through his teeth, “but how did your sire get into that club and bite _you_ out of all those people inside that building?”

“My sire…” John muttered, tensing up in the shoulders. “You know who he is, right?”

“Answer my question,” Jaren said.

“You know him,” John spoke more adamantly. His eyes were darkening as the seconds past them both by, his fingers curling into the fabric of his white pants, but there was no aggression to his desperation. “Who is he, why would he do this to me?”

_I don’t know. The answers are vague and without any help, they won’t ever be revealed._

Jaren opened his mouth to speak John’s sire’s name, but then a pulse went straight through him and all words fell from his throat. He almost winced at the spikes of pain racing up his spine, along his neck, until a warmth fell upon him completely.

_No…not now._

Jaren was about to rise from the bed until John had pushed himself to his feet, and shoved Jaren against the wall, his phone discarded on the ground as his fingers dug into his shoulders while his eyes began to shroud a deep red haze.

_Not now. Fuck. Not now. Not this._

“John,” Jaren gasped the second the fledgling’s mouth opened, revealing his fangs that had pushed through the gums where the previous ones had been. He was turning too quickly, it was unbelievable at how enhanced this was becoming.

“I smell it,” John panted against Jaren who was trying to shove him off. “I can smell you, the blood under your skin, in your veins, I can hear your heart racing, I can feel the blood...the warmth. I hate it. I hate it.” He sobbed.” I want it so badly!”

_Fuck. No...no...not now...not now...why…why?_

It was leaking from his nose and from the back of his throat. The pain was rising inside of him, a pinprick growing into a mass of uncomfortable pain that left him confused about what was happening.

Then John leaned down, and to Jaren’s shock, he licked the blood that slid onto his lip. He groaned and gasped, his fingers kept Jaren placed against the wall until he surged down and connected their mouths into a harsh kiss. 

Jaren tightly closed his eyes, trying to breathe as both pain, blood, and John’s tongue overwhelmed him. The fledgling licked at the blood that was filling Jaren’s mouth, moaning at the taste as his grip was becoming lax upon Jaren’s shoulders, including his weight.

He fumbled for the inside of his coat, then wrapped his fingers around the handle, yanked it out of the holster, and pulled the trigger.

John gasped, eyes full of shock at what Jaren had done before he stumbled back against the wall, sliding down to the floor where he had previously been sitting. “Y-You shot me…”

Jaren wiped the blood from his mouth, hands shaking. “You’ll be fine…” He slid off the bed, reached for his phone, and almost afraid he might not be able to walk properly as John watched him. “You’re not the only one who’s dying.” 

He staggered to the door, closed and locked it, before reaching into his phone to call Evan to ask what the fuck was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. So, a few weeks ago (maybe one wk), I had a falling out with my sister & I needed time to think things through. It's bad enough I have to deal with major depression, but over time, I started to feel better. Not about her, but my own intentions. :) 
> 
> I hoped you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.


	6. Death Is Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan must compensate for past mistakes.

Evan turned the faucet on with a shaky hand while placing a glass underneath the running water. He had woken up in cold sweat, his phone ringing then going dead. He hardly cared as he slipped out of the bed and stumbled his way to the kitchen. It was the afternoon, and he was meant to wake up, well rested and ready to go to work.

However, that didn’t happen. He woke up with his legs feeling rigid, his body stiff, his throat dry and scratchy. The first few thoughts was if he was getting sick or something. Then the other thoughts came when he tried to move his legs and it was too difficult to do that.

He downed two entire glasses before making his way to the bathroom. He washed his face with cold water, gasping for air for a second before stumbling back into his bedroom. He grasped for his phone and blinked away the blurriness from his eyes to read the messages.

_ I had a dream. A nightmare. You have to call me. _

Evan cleared his throat while reading the next few messages that came from his friend. There was a painful ringing in his ear that made it hard for him to concentrate before leaving his phone on the bed, then reaching for his dresser. He pulled out a few articles of clothing and tore off the ones he had been wearing.

It was way too hot, he barely started scratching his own skin during the time he dropped the clothes, and pulled on a fresh new shirt and pants. He left his socks as he grasped his phone and stumbled from the bedroom.

Evan wiped perspiration from his forehead as he looked for his wallet in the kitchen, then his bag, and his coat. He pulled his shoes on and walked out of his apartment.

He texted back his friend.  _ I need food. Coffee. _

He dug in his pocket for his keys once he rocked back and forth inside the elevator. His friend didn’t text back until he made it to the garage where his car sat. He struggled for a second to get the door open. His hands were shaking so badly, and he was lightheaded. 

“Fuck sakes,” he muttered, sitting in the driver’s seat. 

_ What do you want to eat? And are we going to talk about my dream? _

Evan let out a trembled breath, then put his phone on speaker when he started up his car, and pulled out of the parking space. The phone rang for a few seconds then he finally answered as Evan drove onto the street.

“I need nutritions,” Evan told him as a way of greeting. 

“So no fast food?” he asked.

Evan shook his head. His mouth is dry, and he’s licking his lips, trying to find moisture. “I need fruit, Jon, I need...something...water...juice—it’s fucking hot in this fucking car.” The impatience cut through him as he curled his fingers on the steering wheel. There’s a small bit of fear rising inside of him that he might pass out.

“Okay, okay. Why did you leave your apartment? I could’ve come to you."

Evan let out a humorless laugh. “I know, but this isn’t only about me, not exactly."

“So, where are you going then? Orion?”

“No...I can’t go there, not now,” Evan said, realizing quick that he was panting. “Can you phone Jaren, tell him to meet me at the usual place. He knows what it means.”

“Uh...okay, but do you still want the fruit?”

Evan nodded, staring at the sunlight soaking the asphalt as the glint of metal from the cars came in and out of his vision. “I’ll call you once I’m finished.”

“What are you going to do? I need...Evan...I need to speak to you about my dream, it’s important.”

Evan stopped at a red light, and let out a deep sigh. “I know, Jon, I know what you’re about to tell me.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Evan said, tense. “I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up the phone and let out both a sigh of relief, and of pain. He was suffering again. Not just him with the physical effects, but Jaren as well. He’ll need to talk to Jonathan more about the dream he had. At least in the full context of what he saw, for now, he has to drive out of the city.

He hit another red light after thirty minutes of driving when he got a call from Jaren. He answered it, hoping there’s not a cop anywhere near him.

“Where are you?” he asked, trying his hardest to keep his mind straight. He wasn’t even sure if he was driving correctly after fifteen minutes of silence, but at least he hadn’t gotten into a car accident yet.

“We can’t go  _ there, _ ” Jaren said, voice raspy on the other line.

Evan frowned. “Why, what’s going on?”

“I...I…” Jaren started coughing raggedly, then Evan heard him spit something out from his mouth. “ _ It’s _ been following me,  _ it’s _ close by…”

Well, that’s unusual.  _ It _ has never done that before, why now of all times? He almost wanted to ask Jaren more about what he’s seen, but the question is replaced with another that’s more important. “So where do you want to meet?”

“Rose Park.”

“Why there?” Evan asked, turning onto another lane so he could go onto the left intersection. He was heading the other direction from where he was intended to go. “It’s way too public.”

“Some unusual things are happening lately,” Jaren tells him. “Currently, there’s a snow storm over there.”

Evan glanced around the street. “It’s not winter though.”

“Yeah, I know, and no one’s talking about it on the news or anything, so I hardly doubt anyone’s going to notice us once we’re over there.”

He has no idea what Jaren is talking about, well...not exactly. He gets what he means, but the headache pounding on either side of his head is making him slightly confused, and maybe a little nauseous.

“Jon...called not too long ago,” he said, in a way to move the conversation along to something less extreme.

“What did he say?”

“He had a dream.”

“Don’t we all?” Jaren is chuckling on the other side, then he’s coughing again, and spitting something out. Evan hears a slight curse from him until his breathing comes back heavier.

“Yeah, we both know what that means, and I told him I’ll talk to him after we’re finished.” 

“That’s good then, make sure he brings fruit or something…”

“Yeah,” Evan said, making a sharp turn. It’s only a few seconds after he realized that Jaren hung up. He turned up the radio just to hear something other than his own rapid thoughts about what is going on with them. He knew Jaren is having it worse, and that this little meeting of theirs will keep them contained for a bit longer.

At least, that’s what he’s hoping it’ll do.

He drove until he arrived at Rose Park. He got out of his car and strolled toward the pathway with a yellow line in the center that goes around throughout the park. Today is a bit different than normally. Outside of the white barrier are sun soaked streets, an unbearable heat, warm and tantalizing to those who enjoy the weather.

Inside is a whole lot different. In the center of the park is a river that widened out toward a bridge that separated the section. Including the pathway that goes all around it for those who are either exercising or walking their dogs, and spending time with their children in the grass.

Rose Park is covered entirely in an unusual blizzard. A cold wind that bites as Evan sauntered along the path until he spotted Jaren standing on the bridge. There’s no one around from the looks of it, and when he waved to get Jaren’s attention.

Jaren wiped blood from his nose that has already dried on his pale skin. The bags beneath his eyes have darkened, while the ends of his brown hair are white with frost. He’s tense as he walks down the incline toward Evan. Then Jaren started coughing again, and a clump of blood appeared in his hand, he wiped it away, a bit of it has already stuck to his bottom lip.

“SMii7y!” Evan called as Jaren collapsed to his knees. He’s gasping, coughing, fingers reaching for his neck as if he can’t breathe.

Evan tasted the blood in the back of his throat. The raw iron and rot seeping into his skin, slivers of it leaking out as he slid on the grass, falling to his knees before Jaren who clutched onto Evan’s shoulders to keep himself from toppling over.

“I’m okay...I’m okay,” he said, but Evan isn’t convinced. Jaren is too sickly, too weak, and he almost looks like he’s about to pass out.

“We’re here,” Evan said as a way to comfort him. “We’re here!” This time he’s yelling to the sky, to whoever is listening because now that he's close, he can feel  _ it _ , the intensity of it in his own skin, tightening on the inside as a familiar pain is brought to the surface. 

He coughed raggedly, trying to hold himself up alongside Jaren as he dragged them both to their feet.

“We’re here!” He reached into his coat and felt the coldness of the item in his palm. “Come on,” he says to Jaren, pulling him toward the icy river, hard enough for them to walk upon as they clutch one another, making sure they don’t slip.

The wind slowed as they drew close to the source of the abnormal winter. It’s not usually like this, he knows it’s not, and he’s unsure why that is. He might need to ask Jonathan more about his dream, and hoped that it gives them clarity.

The wind dies down, the cold is not as freezing upon their stiff clothes and shivering forms. 

“I told you once that death is not heat.” The confident voice rode the wind, followed by barking that only the dying would hear.

“We’re close,” Jaren murmured against Evan before he fell to his knees, coughing up more blood from his throat.

“We’re here,” Evan says desperately, taking out the item from his pocket and presenting it toward the man standing before them upon the center of the icy river, alongside a black dog with glowing silver eyes. “Take it.”

The man is strangely normal looking with short brown hair and fair skin. He’s tall with broad shoulders, wearing a dark coat that barely passes his knees, and black jeans with black shoes. He has his hands tucked inside his pockets, while wearing a smile on his face. Undisturbed by the freezing weather.

“Death is cold, and it will remain so until the end of days,” the man said as he walked toward the two, the dog trailing behind.

Evan had fallen to his knees, gasping for air as the pain rose steadily from his chest. Puncture wounds from a day long ago when death was so close.

“Take it,” Evan said, glaring up at the man as he stopped in front of them, “Brian.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking the gold coin from Evan’s shaky, bloody hand. He smiled pleasantly at it before pocketing the item. “The compensation of life has been given, and your contract has been renewed for an extended six months.

It’s difficult to breathe, but as the seconds go by, it becomes easier. Evan glanced back at Jaren who was holding a hand to his chest, eyes screwed shut, but he seemed to also be breathing fine.

Evan stiffened when he heard sniffling, and when he turned back toward the man known as Brian, and his dog who was staring right at him, nose right in Evan’s face.

“Uh…”

“Sorry,” Brian chuckled, his voice heavy with an Irish accent. “He’s always curious about you boys. Smelling the way that you do. Life and death twined together, unlike the living, you’re both hanging by a thread. It’s quite curious since Jaren seemed to be reeking of it more so for the past few hours.”

Evan leaned back on his knees, staring up at Brian peculiarly and noticing the winter air is slowly dissipating. “He said he sensed you.”

Brian grinned. “Ah, yes, he is a keen one, isn’t he?”

“I would’ve noticed.”

“I wasn’t hanging around you and your  _ dreamer _ boy,” Brian said. “Jaren on the other hand has been around both werewolves and vampires. Including the fledgling that...kissed him rather provocatively.”

Evan frowned at that. “Maybe next time, you can give us a heads up.”

“I did, I gave you six months.” Then Brian swiftly turned and strolled away along with his dog.

Evan reached back for Jaren and helped him to his feet. They had to get off the icy river before it started crackling. He told Jaren about Jonathan again, and Jaren said they should leave his car, and Evan should drive to wherever Jonathan is.

“I want to hear what this dream is about,” Jaren said, wiping away blood from his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was kind of excited to write this chapter. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.


	7. One Thing Leads To Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaren wants to get back to work, but he finds another lead, and more work to sort through.

Jaren stared at his orange juice sitting inside a glass cup. He was drained, arms shaking, legs heavy, mind spinning. It almost felt like a headache, just less painful without the need to throw up everything he had eaten in the day. Which wasn’t much besides a cup of coffee. 

Evan drove him to Jonathan’s apartment. The man lived in a beautiful place with white walls, floors, a nice vacuumed carpet, with white cupboards and a table in the center. The window was left open, and there was even a vase with flowers sitting on the counter. It smelled nice, and it somewhat calmed his headache.

In front of him sat a platter of fruit Jonathan had run out and bought. To their good timing, he had gotten back the second they pulled up in the front of the apartment. He wasn’t as worried, not like he had too since he saw them like this before. He did glance at their person just to check for anything abnormal.

“You threw up?” he asked Jaren.

He couldn’t speak, and the question was left unanswered, besides being visibly answered. Evan had gone to the bathroom and stayed there for an additional fifteen minutes while Jaren slowly ate some of the fruit. It was sweet, cold, and so much more than the biting ice that he experienced back on the lake.

The smell was strong as it rose in waves as they drew near the Reaper and his hellhound. A series of wet dirt, rotting corpses, and stale blood. Not something anyone would like to smell like, but apparently only the dying would understand it more than the living. And Brian wasn’t the type who lingered around others all that much, but Jaren was also getting the feeling the dog is what smelled like it.

“I have no scent,” Brian once told him when he loitered outside of a store, scaring a vampire who had wandered past him. He only allowed certain people to see him, and involuntarily to the ones who were close to kicking the bucket.

Vampires can especially see him because of their affinity to death. They are technically already dead, just not ripe for the taking. Brian hardly cared about their presence, and ignored them.

Jonathan sauntered into the kitchen and gave him a friendly smile. He was tall and not as lanky as Jaren would perceive him as. He always wore blue, and either baggy jeans, and sometimes with rips. Like him and Evan, Jonathan worked for Orion, but he kept his business to himself. He would consider Jonathan attractive, but Jaren hardly cared about that notion of other people’s appearance, at least when they opened their mouths and ruined the entire illusion. So why bother with the physical aspect when the other parts didn’t match.

“Evan fell asleep...do you want to take the couch?”

Jaren shook his head. “No, I have to get back to work.” Another thing he was dreading to do. He wouldn’t deny that he was tired, but now that Evan was fast asleep, he didn’t really have to worry about collapsing. He had in the past, but that was when he and Evan didn’t understand their dire circumstance.

He ate a few more pieces of fruit and drank the rest of his orange juice. Once he set the cup down, he met Jonathan’s eyes and said, “What was your dream about?”

Jonathan gave him an awkward nod, “I was going to tell you and Evan, but he fell asleep…”

“You’ll eventually tell him,” Jaren said.

“I know.” Jonathan pulled the chair out and sat down, setting his hands on the table. “The dream...was of you and Evan...dying. Like actually dying.”

Jaren slowly nodded. He wasn’t sure about the specifics, but Jonathan had a knack of seeing into the future when he dreamed. Some of them could be avoided, others were nonsense, but the ones that were targeted toward certain symbolisms in their lives meant it was true, and the path they walked was inevitable.

“I’m thinking six months,” Jaren said, standing up and pushing the chair back in.

“Why six months?” Jonathan asked, brows furrowed, but they smoothed out when he realized what Jaren said. “That’s how much _he’s_ giving you?”

It wasn’t ideal, but it was also six months.

“I have to get back to work.”

“Jaren, six months isn’t a lot of time to get another—”

He stopped, fingers curling as he narrowed a glare at Jonathan. “What Evan did to procure _it_ is none of my business. And if your dream is correct, and Brian came around the same damn time, then it’s six months. You might want to also inform Evan of that, but everything else is not my issue at the moment.”

He then walked out, the exhaustion weighing him down as he sauntered toward the elevator. He didn’t eat enough, nor drink that much juice or water. Maybe when Evan wakes up, he’ll have his fill and energize them both. He wasn’t even sure how long he’ll be awake for now that Evan is taking a well deserved nap for holding him up on the ice.

Once he was in the elevator, Jaren leaned against the wall, closed his eyes, and let out a trembling sigh. He felt his chest where the scars were, the ones that burned when their time was close. He hardly experienced the effect, and Evan dealt with it more than he did. A strange twist for what they had done a year ago.

Jaren grudgingly made his way back to Orion where he stood to the side, watching as four Orion agents were escorting a young woman with long brown hair that went past her shoulders. She had fair skin, and brown eyes, and wore a black dress that barely went past her ankles.

“What’s going on?” Jaren asked another Orion agent who was standing to the side.

“The wolves,” the woman with a tight blond bun said, “found William Grey’s scent leading back to the Witches.”

Jaren’s brows arched, “They think a witch did this?”

“They don’t think,” the woman said, giving him a pointed look, “they pretty much know she was a part of it.” 

Jaren headed upstairs to his office, but he hesitated in front of the door. There was one other thing he wanted to do and that was to focus on the fledgling, except now that the witch was also a part of this entire mess, he had more to figure out.

He was right that the wolves were going to deal with this issue on their own, which did not help Jaren in the least. He wanted to make it clear to them that they would have to stay out of the way. He wasn’t going to like that conversation if he ever brings it up.

Jaren got himself another cup of coffee, grimacing at the awful taste and scowling at a few people in the cafeteria before heading toward the interrogation room. 

He already spotted Anthony standing outside, holding a phone in his hand before glancing up. “Hey, I was about to call you.”

“Can I get in there?” he asked him, pointing at the door.

“There’s already two other agents—”

Jaren grasped the door handle and pulled it open, Anthony sighed as he followed Jaren inside. The two other agents glanced at Jaren before looking away.

“Heard you were dealing with a fledgling,” one of them said with a bit of a snide tone. 

“I am, but I noticed I wasn’t informed that a witch was brought in,” Jaren said, walking toward the window that was two way. The young woman was sitting on the chair, her hands in her lap and not bothering to touch the metal table before her. There was already an interrogator in the room, opening files.

“Who is she?” he asked. She seemed...vulnerable. Her gaze was empty while looking down at the steel reflection, and she was shaking.

“Lila Woods,” the second interrogator spoke. She had short brown hair, wearing thin glasses, and was also holding a coffee cup, just not from Orion. Maybe he should’ve done the same when he went to retrieve his car. “A witch of the Oak Spirit Coven.”

The Witches within the city kept themselves away from the wolves and the vampires. They were much more secluded in their craft, including the loyalty amongst them was strong.

“Have you spoken to her leader?” he asked.

“No,” the man said, narrowing his gaze at Jaren. “The wolves handed her over, whatever they said or done is their own business.”

Jaren almost suppressed rolling his eyes. “What they all do—witch, vampire, and werewolf—is ours to consider, not for them to ignore. We have to know the details, and from the looks of it, Randall had done more than he should’ve to this woman.”

“Randall wasn’t the one who brought her,” Anthony said uneasily.

Jaren frowned. He figured in some way that Randall hadn’t, but he wasn’t sure since his best friend just died. “Who then?”

“Landon…”

Jaren sighed as he watched the interrogator finally speaking to Lila. “Does Devon know about this?”

“I don’t think so.”

Great. Another thing he’ll have to do today. He wasn’t eager to speak to the fledgling again, not after what he had done. The kiss was forgotten quick when Jaren staggered toward his car, but the memory of it was returning slowly to his mind. John was needed for the investigation, at least to find his sire whenever the man wants his fledgling to show up.

“I need to get into contact with Lila’s leader, and then I’ll have to speak to Randall and Devon,” Jaren said quietly to Anthony, taking a sip of his coffee. Yeah, he hated drinking coffee from this place.

“Have you spoken to Evan?” he asked.

“He won’t be around until the afternoon.” Jaren looked to Anthony. “Do you mind staying around for a bit, I need to make those phone calls, and then I’ll be right back.”

Anthony nodded. “It shouldn’t take long since Lila looks like she isn’t talking...probably without a lawyer, or her leader.”

She was pretty much a dead end for now. Jaren stepped out of the room and headed back down the hallway. That’s when he spotted another woman standing at the end, she had slowed her pace when she spotted him, and Jaren came to a quick stop in the hallway, his body stiffened as the entirety of the corridor became heavy.

“She didn’t do it.” The woman’s brown eyes narrowed into a glare at Jaren. She had a white shirt covering her brown skin, and blue jeans. Her curly brown hair trailed down past her shoulders. Whatever power a witch could manifest, it was immense, and could sometimes be uncontrollable to the ones who didn’t know of their own strength.

This witch was well known, and Jaren had worked with her in the past. 

Jaren struggled for words, “This isn’t..the place for this...Aurora.”

The room trembled with her power, then faded away in seconds. Jaren almost toppled forwards, but managed to catch himself. 

Aurora didn’t look bothered as she sauntered over to him, her glare softened. “She didn’t do what they say.”

“We don’t know that,” he told her.

Aurora crossed her arms, “Lila is a good girl, she wouldn’t associate with anyone for the murder of a _werewolf_.” She shook her head. “There has to be someone else who could’ve done this.”

“I want to get to the bottom of this,” Jaren said, smoothing a hand over his throat. He needed water, and from the looks of his cup that was now on the floor, he wasn’t about to start drinking more coffee. Maybe he needed fresh air. “I’m on my way to speak to your leader, if you want to—”

“No,” Aurora interrupted. “I’m staying here until I can take Lila back to our coven.” She stepped closer, and her voice lowered as her glare darkened. "And if those _wolves_ dare touch another witch from Oak Spirit again, I’ll rip them apart.”

Jaren nodded. “I get it, you’re pissed, but threatening them isn’t wise.”

She rolled her eyes and walked past him, “I don’t care.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I actually like writing Aurora, her passion is nice to write too. I still like writing SMii7y, he feels kind of dull, but not to the point that he's boring, more like he's a zombie walking around trying to find purpose in life. LOL. I guess that's a bit of what he is. :)
> 
> So, obviously there are some words that I got wrong cause I thought I was right even though I knew I was wrong. I guess I'm glad that I randomly edit at times, and I have a guilty conscious. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.


	8. A Sense of Smell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaren finds himself at another crime scene, and in the presence of death as it mocks his life.

There was a protocol for the vampires, the witches, the werewolves to not attack an Orion agent. It was against the rules since outside forces like the police wouldn’t hesitate to kill them. Who they were to the world was a myth, a story twisted in everyway possible, and they were also nightmares, a grandiose source of entertainment and escape.

They were meant to be free, and the ones who know about them were meant to keep that freedom from being attacked by the humans. 

Jaren was leaned against the wall, catching his breath from Aurora’s magic seizing the entire hall. He didn’t blame her for the rage in her body, for the fear of Lila’s predicament. He was not in danger of her, and she had let go of his body, the weight in the air, in a matter of seconds.

He continued his way to the main floor and came to a stop when he spotted Brock appearing from the hallway to his far left. Their eyes met, and there seemed to be an urgency as Brock made his way across the room to him.

“When did you get in?” Jaren asked, almost having the urge to yawn.

“Twenty minutes ago,” Brock said. There were bags underneath his eyes, and he was shaking, he also smelled of fresh coffee. He was holding papers in his hand, including his tablet. “The fledgling is asking for you.”

He knew sooner or later he’d have to speak to John again, but he was safe within Orion, and that no one even knew where he was. For now, he was not a priority.

“Tell him I’ll speak to him later.”

Brock nodded and hurried off toward the elevator while Jaren sauntered toward the front doors, and pushed them open. The warm air had a sort of cold spring wind going on as Jaren headed for his car. Once he sat inside, he tried going through what he wanted to say to Vivienne Cane, the Witch Leader of the _Oak Spirit Coven_.

He hadn’t been the type of person who would go speak to a leader, but he had done so with the wolves, except Randall had come to Orion. Talking to Vivienne would be tricky, less then trying to get an audience with the vampire leader. He didn’t even want to think about it if it ever came to it.

Before Jaren started up the car, his phone buzzed from the inside of his coat pocket. He took it out and found a new report from another Orion agent. He stared at the words, reading it twice before letting out a groan.

_Shit. This is getting worse and worse._

Jaren drove away from Orion, fingers tapping on the steering wheel at several red lights, while listening to the silence. He didn’t dare drown out the heavy thoughts in his mind with music. He needed to stay focused now that there was another murder. This one was a bit stranger than normally, but he had to be at the crime scene.

He parked his car near the back alley of third block Robert St. He grabbed his camera and walked the rest of the way, pulling out his Orion badge to get himself past the yellow tape. He spotted the Orion agent standing to the side. Her arms were crossed and she wore an all black suit with a white shirt underneath. Her sunglasses hid her green eyes as she turned and regarded him with a nod.

“Who is it?” he asked her, learning her name is Sasha Lowell. 

“Donna Kay,” Sasha said, looking toward the body under the shade of a tree and surrounded by thick grass. Yet from where Jaren stood, he could see the strangeness of the body, the curling black ends of the grass. There was even the strong scent of ash in the air, a burning body, almost sickly sweet. “She belonged to the One Eyed Raven Vampire Coven.”

Jaren nodded, adjusting his camera. He told Sasha he was going to take a few pictures of his own and walked past two police officers. They were quietly talking to one another, yet their conversation was mostly about how ugly the body had become, and their own pity was sharp on their tongue.

He took pictures of Donna’s scorched body. It was abnormal to human kind. Humans don’t burn like this. The woman’s skin hadn’t peeled, it was simply a grey ash, while her black hair was burned away, several clumps were left in the grass, blood alongside it.

From what he knew of the scene, Donna had fought whoever attacked her, and who eventually killed her. There were deep indentations in her arms, her neck, her legs. Her mouth was left open, as if she had been screaming up until her body became a burned out husk.

It was horrifying.

He walked back to Sasha who told him Chiron agents will be arriving to make sure Donna Kay’s remains are given back to her leader. Until then, they couldn’t do anything.

“What do you think attacked her?” he asked her.

She shrugged, “First thing that came to mind was a werewolf. A vampire nor a witch would have done what killed Donna.” She gave him a grim smile. “Nor a human could go up against a vampire. Whoever had done this made sure she was incapacitated until the sun rose, and they let her burn.”

Jaren walked back toward his car. Each step was heavier than he had thought it would. He was disturbed by what he had seen, yet the questions all piled up alongside it. Who killed William Grey, a leader of a wolf pack, and an underling vampire? This also made him wonder about John, and Lila. Why were they involved in this?

He turned the corner and came to a quick stop at the figure leaning against his car. “What are you doing here?” he asked, taking out his keys from his pocket.

The reaper smiled at him. “Oh, you know me, where death goes, I follow.”

Jaren rolled his eyes. “Do you know what happened?” he asked, unlocking the car.

“I don’t ask questions of how people die. If it’s their decision or not, death is death, like life, you all don’t have much of a reason for it, like it has no reason when it takes you for who you are.” He chuckled as he got into the passenger seat.

Jaren wasn’t sure how he felt about having a reaper smiling at him in his car. He felt as if it were normal, but if someone looked at him strangely while he talked to the air, then he’ll be the abnormal one.

“How is the investigation, by the way?” Brian asked.

He sighed. “I won’t be able to get any information from Donna Kay’s body until I get verified by her coven leader.”

Brian hummed. “And who is that?”

Did he even care or was this some sort of way to make small talk? Either way, Jaren just wanted to go back to Orion and figure out his next move in the investigation.

“Jude Camden,” Jaren answered quietly. He was yet another leader that Jaren didn’t want to speak too, if anything, Jaren was regretting not making more friends in the vampire community.

There wasn’t much else to talk about with a reaper as he headed back to Orion. He didn’t even buy coffee, and the regret ran circles in his head as he stepped into the foyer. Brian had his hands tucked in his dark blue jean pockets, and was smiling at everyone inside.

“Ah, life with all their pretty numbers,” Brian said, then he nudged Jaren in the arm, which somewhat disturbed him that he was able to be touched by him. “Some things don’t exist, but humans have a way of making everything exist. Isn’t that strange?”

Jaren frowned. “No.”

“What are we doing today?” Brian asked, following Jaren toward the elevator. 

He might as well speak to the fledgling and see what he wants. “Why are you following me?” he asked, standing in the elevator with the reaper. He didn’t bother looking at him and hoped no one was listening in on their conversation. He almost had the urge to glance up at the camera in the corner.

“Death follows death,” Brian tells him, rocking back and forth. “And I notice it follows you quite close at your heels. Why not loiter around a bit?”

“You have been until Evan paid you for that six months.”

Brian shrugged. “I only did that in the first few days before your time was up, no need to think I’m some kind of stalker.” He chuckled at whatever joke he was making as he once again followed Jaren down the hall toward the Containment Sector, he made a turn toward the detainment cell.

Jaren scanned his card over the keypad and went straight for the detainment cell. Once inside, the room was quiet besides Brock standing before a desk, and two computer monitors that were on and brightly displayed the tension on his face.

“Your friend has a smell of death too,” Brian says, grinning at Brock. “Except the difference with him is that he isn’t going to die any time soon.”

Jaren ignored Brian and greeted Brock.

He glanced up and the tension was somewhat smoothed away. “Ah, I see your morning has been going good.”

Jaren shrugged. “Somewhat. There was another murder.” He looked toward the detainment cell where the fledgling was inside. He wasn’t awake, and was sleeping on the bed instead of the floor. He seemed normal from where Jaren was standing.

“Is that why Jude Camden is here?” Brock asked.

Jaren arched a brow. Now that was surprising to hear. “He is?” No one had told him, yet again. He’s going to have to talk with Anthony about this.

“People gossip,” Brock sighed while organizing his papers, “and apparently he had come here to speak to the director personally. I’m sure it’s a surprise to everyone since Jude doesn’t take the risk to walk outside, but from what I know, he must’ve taken the tunnels. I’m guessing the victim was from his coven.”

“Well, isn’t he smart,” Brian mocked. He was leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. 

“Donna Kay,” Jaren said, taking a step closer to the glass. “She was attacked and forced to burn under the sun.”

Brock winced. “I see…”

“Can I see him?” Jaren asked, tapping the glass.

“Of course,” Brock said, and this seemed a bit too eager, and Brock noticed the odd look. “I mean...there’s something different about him, and I’m glad you came here so I can tell you.”

This was interesting. “You said the black blood was normal.”

Brock nodded uneasily. “I know. There are different factors in the last few hours since his breakdown, including the turning.”

“He’s finished?”

“Apparently,” Brock said, wringing his fingers. “Yes, he’s finished. From what I learned of the tests, that John can heal quickly like normal vampires, but from the wounds he had sustained from whoever had bitten him, he was meant to die during the turning. Someone like him...was not supposed to survive.”

_I thought maybe...a mortal would change it._

“Whoever had done this...wanted him dead?”

“I don’t think they would’ve done what they did if they wanted him dead,” Brock said, letting out a nervous laugh. “But I think from what happened to him, including his violent temper that has now lessened, and the immense vomiting, he wasn’t supposed to survive the transition until the blood within him,” Brock shrugged, “healed him.”

Jaren slowly nodded. There were a few questions that were eluding him, some that made him think about William Grey and Donna Kay’s death, and now John Keyes, who somehow managed to survive when they died.

Brock stood beside him on Jaren’s left side, while Brian took his right. “We did give him blood capsules to stave off the hunger, but he seems unusually healthy for a newborn vampire.”

“What about the black blood?” Jaren asked. “Why did it heal him?”

“I’m not entirely sure yet,” Brock said, “but from what I know and the tests I conducted since he was brought in. The blood is poisonous to both vampire and werewolf strains.”

Jaren hardly knew what to say about that besides asking if he can go inside. Brock didn’t seem unwilling as he opened the door, then closed it behind him as Jaren walked toward John. 

“Hey,” Jaren said, clearing his throat. He needed to drink a lot of water after this, maybe a coffee too. “John…wake up.” He nudged him a few times until Jaren caught sight of sleepy dark eyes before John slowly pushed himself up. The thin white blanket covered a portion of his body, and almost slipped off the bed before he grasped it.

“You’re here…” John murmured, a soft smile pulled at the corner of his lips, then he smelled the air. “You smell like me.”

Jaren opened his mouth, unsure of what to say about that.

“Isn’t he quite a strange specimen,” Brian said from a foot behind Jaren to his left.

John glanced up sharply, then stared toward the reaper. A disturbed look passed over his features as he pulled the blanket over his face, fingers curling into the fabric. “What the fuck is that?”

Oh, right. They don’t have a smell.

Brian snickered and stepped past Jaren to examine John’s strange form. He was shaking while Jaren simply watched the reaper leaning down to grin at the frightened vampire.

“This is Brian,” Jaren told him.

“What is it? What is it? What is it?” John asked, eyes wide as Brian stepped back.

“It’s quite unusual,” Brian said, smirking at Jaren. “You should kill _it_ before the vampires consider _it_ an abomination.”

“Out of anyone, I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t be saying John’s an _it_ when you’re not even from this world.”

“I never said I wasn’t.” He walked to the other side of the room, and grinned in amusement at the two.

“Will they kill me?” John asked, unable to look away from Brian.

“No,” Jaren reassured him as he stood beside the bed. “You’re registered to Orion, so you’re Orion’s property and responsibility. At least until you’re no longer useful.”

John frowned at him, leaning close. “Will you come back?”

“Yeah…” Jaren said uneasily. There was a lot to consider now as the investigation was getting more messier and intense. He left the detainment cell and told Brock he’ll return tomorrow afternoon. Brian wasn’t as annoying as they headed back upstairs, at least until they walked into the foyer.

“Ah, look at this,” Brian said as he and Jaren noticed two odd individuals standing near the front desk. They looked like college students in clean black coats, the woman wore black tight jeans with black jeans, a leather jacket and a black shirt underneath. Her dark hair was pulled up into a high pony tail, while the other had messy brown hair and had a brown satchel over his shoulder, he held a book, and wore nice black shoes that reminded Jaren of Randall’s.

The two of them turned in synch, and even their expressions twisted into sneers. It would’ve bothered anyone except Jaren who was already tired of the day’s events and hardly reacted. At least until their sneers fell flat when they found a strangeness toward Brian who stood next to Jaren.

“I always enjoy when vampires have no idea what death is until they look it in the face,” Brian said to Jaren who dropped his gaze from the vampires who were now horrified of Brian, and his lack of scent. Everything had a scent, but _reapers_ , they weren’t of the world that had a pulse, or that breathed air. Brian was death, a part of it that collected souls of the living. He seemed amused when others realized how...nonexistent he truly is.

Jaren couldn’t help the smile as he walked across the foyer toward the front doors. Once outside, Brian hummed quietly before coming to a stop, and Jaren seemed to notice the odd haunted look he was giving him.

“What is it?”

Brian spoke in an almost deadpan tone that sent a shiver down Jaren’s spine. “You should get back to your investigation on William Grey’s death, and how it connects to a vampire and a witch.”


	9. Unexpected Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kryoz finds blood capsules & follows the trail.

His smell is distinct and it fills the entire room. Kryoz is curled against the wall, shaking underneath the thin white blanket. He tries to ignore the scent, but since he had come out of the...transition, it’s been difficult to ignore the heightened senses he’s been given.

SMii7y’s scent is odd, and he’s only been inside the room once, but he sticks to everything as if he ran his hands along the wall, the floor, Kryoz’s hair and face. The other person who appeared in the room was another mystery altogether. He wasn’t sure who they were, but the moment he looked at them, his senses rang inside his head that something about them was wrong. It made his skin crawl as he looked at the _ordinary_ man with a grin on his face.

_It._

The single word made Kryoz feel less like himself. Not like he has been himself since he was bitten. The attack appeared in his dreams as if he was reliving the event over and over again. A few that stuck to his own skin because of it, making him choke out the black substance when his eyes opened wide, and the pain burned him as the mess continued to grow.

He really did think he was going to die all over again. Maybe a few more times, or that it was never going to end, and that he’ll have to live with it as he stayed trapped within the tight confines of Orion.

All he wanted was SMii7y, and the smell comforted him enough that he was able to sleep. Even now, he was okay closing his eyes and falling asleep. At least until he heard the door to the room beginning to open. He blinked his eyes a few times, expecting either Dr. Barrus, or someone else, maybe SMii7y, but his scent was too distinct...so it couldn’t be him.

And yet, there was no one entering the room. He stared at the open door, and slid from the bed when it stayed open and there was no other noise coming from the outside. He was slow in his approach before crossing the threshold and looked to where Dr. Barrus usually was, but he wasn’t there anymore.

“Hello?” he called, and went still at the small scent of something familiar, and when he looked down, there was a red capsule lying on the ground. He reached down, confused by its appearance as he took it between his fingers. _Blood._ His mouth went parch, and the clothes he wore was warm and uncomfortable as he stared it, almost transfixed, and without thinking about it he put the capsule into his mouth.

He was a vampire, right? SMii7y had given him one before when he had awakened up after...he died.

He didn’t bite down right away, he let the capsule sit on his tongue. Once he does bite down, the blood will swarm his entire mouth, and he won’t lie...he’s kind of scared of what his reaction will be.

Kryoz glanced into the room and SMii7y’s scent is still all over the place. Coffee, caramel, maybe a bit of smoke and...a dead body. He wrinkled his nose at that particular scent. He was one of the agents from this organization, the scent would always stick to him as much as the coffee in his mouth.

He bit down on the capsule, letting the blood fill and seep down into his throat. So parch, thirsty for more, and the scents all around the room are more stronger now. Dr. Barrus was in the room not too long ago, but he left...then someone entered afterwards, so close behind that they were able to unlock the door and leave behind the capsules.

He sniffed the air, teeth clenched, hands shaking at his sides as he looked for the rest of the capsules. They were here, somewhere on the ground, and he spots them in the low light inside the office. Small red capsules that he plucks from the ground, not bothering to hold back his hunger for the blood as he clenches down and breaks them. He moans at the taste, at the way his body is both cold and warm, but it isn’t as uncomfortable as it had been when he was transitioning into a vampire.

“I need more…” he said under his breath as he searched for the rest of the capsules, and then he was at the door to the room. Someone let him out and they were leading him away from the office, why? He pulled the door open and stepped out into the bright hall. Every part of him wants to recoil, to step back within the shadows, but he sees the capsules on the white floor and collapses to the ground, ignoring the pain in his knees as he reaches for the blood.

_More. More. More._

He almost wants to laugh at those painful thoughts running in circles within his head. He knows what he wants, its an itch in the back of his mind, and as he takes the capsules within his mouth, his senses widen and he sprints down the hall. There’s more, but it’s varied. Two in each hall. One at the beginning and one at the end. He checked the doors when he passed them. A few are locked, one is unlocked, and when he listens to whispers coming closer, he hides within the room. Closing the door carefully behind him, and he waits until the sound grows then dims as the people walk by.

Kryoz slips out again, following the distinct scent in the air and pushes open a heavy door that leads to a staircase leading all the way down. One capsule on one floor, and he follows, taking the blood, letting out a groan at the back of his mind before wiping away some blood that had trickled from his open mouth. He licks the back of his hand, panting softly.

_More. More. More._

He comes to a full stop on the stairs, barely falling as he grasps the railing as an image of SMii7y enters his head. A smile on his lips as he stands behind the bar. Another time when he’s pulling a tooth from a vampire, then standing beside him as Kryoz lays on the bed after dying. SMii7y’s scent clings even how far Kryoz has run from the room, it stays on him, and he shakes at the taste of coffee and caramel in the air. As if he stands before him without a care in the world.

 _More._ Now that he’s able to think more clearly, the word isn’t really about the capsules or the blood inside. The taste itself is not appetizing as he had thought it would be. No. That’s not really why he’s chasing after these capsules. It’s the release that comes with it, the pain in his body, the loneliness he feels, and the tension that makes him want to claw at his skin. He doesn’t want these capsules as much as he had thought.

He continues looking for them anyways, picking them up and biting them, letting the blood fill his mouth. He’s not as hazy as he had felt back inside the room. That is a plus to all of this, and he isn’t assaulted by the pain of dying then becoming a vampire.

At least he isn’t empty anymore.

Once at the bottom of the staircase, Kryoz looks for more of the capsules and finds an elevator instead.

Beside the panel, a capsule had been broken and someone wrote with it on the white wall.

_FLOOR C_

“What the fuck is going on?” he asked, trying to rationalize what is happening as he pressed a button on the elevator and it slid open. It was a normal looking elevator as he stepped inside, and when he looked at the metal panel, it had all the top floors in numbers, then the bottom ones were alphabetized that only went to E.

He pressed the button that had been written on the wall, and held the handle that was on the side as the elevator descended. It seemed someone besides SMii7y was leading him out of Orion. Except, who could it be, it’s not like he had friends who knew about Orion, and he hasn't met many vampire _friends_.

As he thought about this, he stepped out of the elevator and awkwardly found himself standing before a long tunnel with round lights ten feet apart, yet still made this place look extremely creepy. And the other thing was that the capsules have continued upon each round light that had been installed within a metal panel in the cement. It sat in the center as he reached down and plopped them inside his mouth.

The tunnel had the stench of dirt, ash, and the possible scent of a decaying body. It seemed a little too specific. Maybe a sweetness after flesh burned, the droplets of blood that made itself into a puddle on the ground hardly gave off a nice scent. What he was trying to describe was that this tunnel didn’t smell nice in the least, even how clean it was. There was a stain upon the ground, in the air itself as Kryoz walked past each light, collecting the capsules in his hand, biting into them as if they were sour patch candies that he used to buy.

After fifteen or so minutes after, Kryoz found himself at the end of the tunnel and was standing before another grey heavy door. There was a keypad on the side, and written in blood beside it was the numbers to the keypad.

He pressed his finger on the buttons and watched the red light blink to green. The door unlocked, and he stepped inside.

Kryoz went still once again as the door behind him closed, and there was someone inside the wide square room within him. It looked as if it was another office room, but there were papers lying on the ground at the man’s feet, crumpled, ripped apart, or burned.

The man was clapping his scarred hands, a grin stretching across his face. He had pale skin, dark bags under green eyes, and curly brown hair. He wore a red and black plaid shirt with a white v-neck shirt underneath, a faded blue knee ripped pants, and black and white sneakers.

“Uh...who are you?” Kryoz asked, plopping another capsule into his mouth. The man looked younger than he was, maybe in his early twenties. He can tell just by looking at him and by the smell that this man was a vampire. He had a bag on the desk that was full of capsules, he can tell by the smell.

“Glad you asked.” The man had a distinct British accent. “My name is Basil, I’m a friend of a friend.”

“Of mine?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the chair he was sitting on. “We can be friends, I mean...I did let you out of your cage.”

Cage. Right. He was a little suffocated in there, his mind on the excessive vomiting while his body shook uncontrollably. The turning was not pretty as he would have liked, but afterward, they barely let him have as much of the capsules that were now in his hand, and the hands of this vampire.

“Why did you let me out?”

Basil’s smile stayed intact, but Kryoz could see the amused glint in his eyes. “Oh, you’re kind of an interest of mine ever since you got yourself bit by Sebastian of all people.”

Kryoz blinked at the name, at the night when he was turned. “You know...him?” he asked.

“Like I said, I’m a friend of a friend.”

“You’re friends with him?”

“Not really.” Basil stood and reached for the bag of capsules, then arched a brow at the ones in Kryoz’ hand. “I’m surprised you aren’t crazy like usual newborns are. They are a desperate bunch. Always wanting their next fix, but you’re standing there, eating them like—”

“Candy,” Kryoz said, shrugging.

Basil chuckled. “I think we’ll get along nicely if you have such good control and an interesting sense of humor.” He turned toward the door that led out of the room.

“You want me to follow you?” Kryoz asked. SMii7y’s scent flickered in his mind. If he walked out of the room with this strange man, he was getting further away from it, and a part of him didn’t want that.

Basil opened the door and looked over his shoulder at Kryoz. “They see you out of your little cage, they’ll kill you without hesitation. If you walk out without my assistance, you’ll burn in the sun.”

Kryoz gritted his teeth. _Fucking bastard planned this._ “Fine.”

“Good choice,” Basil said, snickering as he walked past the threshold, and Kryoz reluctantly followed him into the darkness of yet another tunnel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Years ago, I wrote this original story about a group of vampires, and one of them was a character named Basil. I used a FC of a celebrity who I don't care about for Basil _(it was accidental, but he fit Basil's description.)_ I deleted the story because of some personal issues that made me purge most of my stories _(which I do greatly regret)_ , and so, I wanted to bring Basil back but in a different story. So here he is. My lovely Basil. :D I hope you enjoy his character and maybe you'll figure out who the FC is. LOL.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.


	10. Footage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMii7y gets a call that John is no longer in his cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update with these fics. :/ I guess back in June/July, I hit a wall because of what happened, so I wasn't sure how I was going to proceed with any of them when I wanted to extensively edit them. However, I did no such thing to my own disappointment. LOL.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.

SMii7y’s phone went off, and he shot up into a sitting position at his table. He reached for the phone and answered it in a drowsy tone as he tried shutting his eyelids again.

“Hey, I thought of calling you...making sure you came to work,” Anthony said on the other line, sounding awkward.

SMii7y hummed.

“Do you know what time it is?”

SMii7y wasn’t even sure what he was talking about as he leaned down against the table, the smell of ink, paper, and coffee was briefly around him as he tried letting sleep pull him under again.

“SMii7y!”

“I’m here…”

“No, you’re not.” Panda sighed. “It’s nine. You were supposed to be here at seven-thirty, if not, eight.”

“I am.”

“Are you falling asleep?”

All SMii7y did was hum again, his hand weak, then he dropped the phone beside him. He could still hear his friend talking.

“SMii7y, you know, that vampire you’ve been hanging around with...he’s gone.” Anthony’s voice was slightly far off thanks to SMii7y dropping the phone on the table, but the words were clear enough for SMii7y to open his eyes again.

“What the fuck do you mean, he’s gone?” SMii7y asked, picking up the phone again and sitting up. He stretched, letting out a groan as Anthony explained that a security guard noticed John walking around out of his cell on the cameras. They’ve been trying to look for him for the past twenty minutes now with no avail.

“Shit, shit,” SMii7y said as he got up, ignoring the way a few papers fell off the table and the chair hitting the floor. He sprinted for his bedroom, leaving Anthony on speaker as he tore the clothes off he hadn’t yet changed from yesterday and looked for new ones.

“I thought you would be in, but knowing your hours...and your car,” Anthony said.

SMii7y cursed as he buttoned up a white shirt, not caring that it was kind of wrinkled nor that he left the two buttons at the collar untouched as he reached for a black blazer on the side. Next was his pants and a pair of socks.

“Did anyone mention my absence?”

“I don’t think anyone cares.”

Wonderful. That means some people have noticed his absence, and he hardly wanted to get a complaint about it. SMii7y pulled his pants on, then his socks, and rushed from the room with his leather brown bookbag he bought spontaneously one time. He cringed at the sight of the papers and documents he left on his kitchen table and slipped his shoes on.

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Make sure that you do, I’d rather not end up with a complaint of my own.” Anthony hung up as SMii7y opened his front door, stepped out, then locked it. He was still so drowsy, mouth full of stagnant coffee he hadn’t yet finished from last night. A lot had happened, and he wanted to go over some of the reports with William Grey’s death, including looking into the backgrounds of everyone who knew him. Of course, there was Donna Kay’s death, and including the witches who came into the picture ever since Lila Woods was brought in for questioning.

He dropped his bag into the passenger seat when he managed to unlock the door, then started up the car. The awful thing about this is that his car wouldn’t start for him. It was all painful swearing and almost wanting to get out and run to work like he had done once before. However, he needed to quickly get there instead of braving the cold autumn air.

It took almost twenty minutes until Anthony texted, asking if he was okay. SMii7y texted back a smiley face as the car finally started up. He drove, tapping the gas meter and hoping he wasn’t about to run out of gas on his way. He forgot to fill it up again last night. Damn it. To his surprise and relief, he makes it work and parks his car in the lot.

He grabs for his bag, then sprints toward the employee side door. Scanning his keycard and pulling the door open when the light turns to green. Once inside, it’s all stuffy and too many bright lights as he rubs his eyes again. He’s still tired, and wonders if he’ll ever have a decent night’s sleep without one of his friends from work waking him up and telling him that he’s late, and that a vampire that had been in captivity for its safety was now loose.

“Shit, John, what the hell happened now?” They talked nicely yesterday, so he didn’t expect John to react in such a way. There had to be a reason and he really wanted to know what that reason was now that he made it to work.

Anthony is waiting at the end of the hall and waves at him. He has two cups of coffee, and unfortunately SMii7y drinks his cold.

“I thought you’d be here earlier,” Anthony said as they walked toward Brock’s sector where the detainment cell was kept.

“My car wouldn’t start.” It was a painful twenty minutes, and he was even annoyed by the thought of it as he sipped the cold coffee. Somehow, it was still incredibly bitter enough that SMii7y had no inclinations to toss it in the nearest garbage. He didn’t like when his coffee was bitter, but it was enough to wake him up with each sip he took.

“Can you tell me what happened exactly?”

“All cameras were blacked out before the event, maybe thirty minutes or less, but enough time that once they came back, your vampire was making his way out of the cell and down the hall,” Anthony gestured with the hand he was holding his coffee with. A long white corridor that led toward a few more corridors, and farther down was the tunnels for the vampires’ use whenever they wanted to enter Orion during the daytime.

“What was he doing?” SMii7y asked.

“Following bread crumbs,” Anthony said, and SMii7y gave him a perplexed look, “in other words, whoever led him out of the facility, led him with blood capsules, enough to sate a newborn for several weeks.”

SMii7y hummed. Well, that’s not good. Who wanted to release John from his cell like that, and who actually knew about him being inside Orion. It wasn’t like the news was public knowledge, or that the city newspaper even wrote an article about it. Orion was a secure government organization, no one but the other supernatural factions knew of its existence, including others who were meant to know about it.

“Someone helped him escape,” SMii7y said as he and Anthony stood in front of several cameras within the security room that was close to the detainment cell.

“Seems incredibly likely, unless John enjoys following his own blood capsule trail, then that’s what most have considered after seeing the footage,” said Anthony, taking another sip and grimacing.

SMii7y told Anthony that he wants John’s background searched thoroughly again, including his friends and families, any enemies he might’ve made in the last two years. He needs more information to go on, and if this meant that someone knew John, and had knowledge of exactly where he was, including moving around Orion without detection. SMii7y doesn’t want to suspect someone within this organization just yet. Of course, SMii7y kept that last part a secret, for now.

He did ask about Brock, but he wasn’t in when it all went down. He had been at home, sleeping in his bed. Once he did find out, he was now in a meeting with several other doctors and researchers, including a few security to find out a way to make their side of the building more secure.

Anthony left as SMii7y dropped his half empty cup into the garbage. He followed the same path that John had made, memorizing the way he picked up each capsule and swallowed it. The look of euphoria had been on his face before he soon got used to the taste. Now, he had been only eager for so much more that was given to him. No wonder he followed the obvious path without complaint. A newborn like John would be easy to kill if it ever came down to it.

He pushed open the heavy door that led to the tunnels below. There were different junctions that allowed certain vampires into buildings throughout the city. They never went too far out. The city grid had no clearance in knowing about these passages unless they had to know for maintenance, which someone within Orion would take care of.

SMii7y descended the stairs to the bottom, then stopped when he spotted something in the corner of his eye. He peered down at it, then picked it up between his fingers. A capsule. Discarded to the side. A vampire wouldn’t ignore its presence like this.

“John…” SMii7y said under his breath, keeping the capsule in his pocket as he unlocked the door and walked within the cold damp tunnels, somewhat dark thanks to the lights that were embedded within the cement. He followed it, finding another capsule on the ground. What did it mean? Either John no longer cared for the capsules, or he was allowing them to be discarded because of who was leading him out of Orion.

_Did he suspect the strangeness as well?_

The tunnels themselves were only used for the vampire leaders like Jude Camden. Of course, he’d have to schedule a meeting so the tunnels would be left open for his use. Other than that, no one else had clearance, and that bothered SMii7y as he reached the room where the cameras had gone dead completely. Apparently, John had walked inside and that was it. No one else was seen or heard throughout the footage that they found.

He scanned the ground and found another capsule. Pocketed it, he walked by the chair sitting in the center, and pushed open the door on the other side of the room. He had to find John, he had to know where he was, and what was happening to him.

He just didn’t know where to start, and that made him hesitate, he stepped back from the door and scowled at it as it closed shut. Someone led him out and took him from Orion, from SMii7y’s safety. He had to find John, and unfortunately, right now, SMii7y had to locate more info before setting out.


	11. Death Is A Pest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brock returned to his office after a few meetings and meets a mysterious man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I changed my mind about something. :)
> 
> This chapter is shorter than the rest, but I don't mind it in the least. :D
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.

_10:30AM_

Brock opened the door to his office. It was good he was no longer sitting in a conference room with several other Orion researchers, scientists, and doctors. It was bad enough most of the blame was on him and his own lab.

John Keyes had gone missing from his own secure cell, and he couldn’t even seem to keep the newborn vampire inside of it. He tested it out on other vampires before John, so he didn’t understand how John could’ve escaped. At least when he did, most of the files hadn’t been taken out or deleted. Whoever helped him escaped the cameras, but they also didn’t seem all that interested in the files at all.

What was their end goal then? Simply to let John out of the cell during the day, was this a way to get back at the vampire for surviving something that William Grey and Donna Kay hadn’t been able too?

Brock sighed at those lingering thoughts as he closed the door and sat down in his chair. There were so much more he had to do today, and one of things was not to overthink his own thoughts. He had to make sure everything was backed up, and that if ever happened again, he wouldn’t lose anything.

After a few minutes, there was a knock at his door. The first thing that flashed in his head was the other doctors, or maybe even his supervisor. He really didn’t need one while working in Orion.

Brock turned in his chair and was about to get up when the light from the hall outside his room made him go still. The door shouldn’t have been left open. He looked up and stared at the open door, and not just the door, but at the figure standing in the threshold.

A tall man with brown hair and a smile on his lips. He was pale, and wore a black trench coats, jeans, and sneakers. He also wore leather black gloves as he closed the door to the room.

“Are you the one who let him out?” Brock asked, curling his fingers in his lap. Why would the person come back to this room simply to bother Brock? Or was his research truly what they wanted and John’s escape was a distraction.

“No,” the man said. “And I don’t normally say hello personally to most of Jaren’s friends, but he told me to bother someone else, so here I am.”

_Jaren?_

“You’re a friend of his?” he asked, then shook away the surprise. “Why are you here? This is an authorized room—”

“You know, Brock, I don’t care about this place being authorized, or that I don’t have any status amongst the researchers, scientists, doctors, and patients of Orion,” the man said as he drew close, making Brock nervous. “I can wander in and out whenever I want simply because this place reeks of _death_ , and I can talk to you simply because you also have a touch of death on your skin.”

“What...do you want?” Brock asked him, sitting back against his chair as the man leaned down, turning his head, a smile spread across his face. He was a stranger, but he was also incredibly intimidating.

“I want to be a pest today, Brock, so here I am, your pest,” the man said, taking a step back and peering around the room. “I’m Brian, by the way.”


	12. Vampire Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMii7y speaks to Jude Camden, one of the vampire leaders, for the whereabouts of John Keyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not really updating all that much. Tbh. Most fics take so much energy to write, and lately I've been interested in one-shots of other fics. LOL. :) I'll try to continue updating, but I do have irl stuff to deal with.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This has been somewhat edited.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.

He was shivering, actually fucking shivering because of what was happening. Shit. He should’ve spoke him to the other day when he stopped by, actually fucking spoke to _him_ then wandering home to his bed, thinking everything would be fine and dandy the next day. But nope, the newborn vampire had to get up and take a stroll out of fucking Orion.

“Jaren, you’re going to have to calm down, your stress levels are getting a little too high,” said Anthony who was sitting in the passenger seat, pointing a thin small rectangular device in his hand that was currently pointed at Jaren. Apparently, one of Anthony’s many jobs is to point it at the co-workers to see if they were okay for work, and if they weren’t, they’d either have to cut down on the caffeine, take a nap in the break room, possibly take a Tylenol, or speak to the building’s therapist about why they were feeling the way they were.

“Anthony, I need you to shut up,” said Jaren, drinking the rest of his coffee and getting back into the car. It was so damn cold he could hardly focus on his own shivering when he finally slammed the door closed. “We might need to make a stop at Jude’s place.”

Anthony grimaced. “Take me back to Orion.”

“No, you’re fine, you can come with me.”

“I don’t want too.”

Jaren turned on the car, turned the heat up to keep them both from freezing. “I don’t care, Anthony. I need someone there with me for moral support.”

“And what do you call this?” Anthony asked while Jaren drove out of the parking lot of the coffee shop.

“Moral support,” Jaren said, trying to recall where Jude’s coven hangs out at. “Did they move areas?”

“From the updated reports on the vampire and werewolf covens, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t _think s_ o?” Jaren asked, frowning at Anthony before driving toward a red light.

Anthony let out a sigh. “Well, ever since William Grey was murdered, and the other day, Donna Kay’s body was found, and a bunch of fingers are being pointed at the witches’ so-called involvement, Jude could’ve moved his coven to keep his group alive until things settled down.”

Jaren grinded his teeth at the work he was going to end up doing. He was not looking forward to any of this. And he really didn’t want to think about it, so he stayed quiet and continued the drive down the street.

Out of everything that happened, why did John have to leave? Shit. He should’ve said something, or at least done something. But what would he have done? There was nothing he could’ve changed about the circumstances they were now in besides calming John down about what was happening to him. And right now, all Jaren could do was his job and that was to investigate the damn murders.

“I can’t believe you’re bringing me to _House of the One Eyed Raven_ ,” Anthony said, almost sinking into his seat while hugging himself.

Jaren shook his head. He can’t believe any of this was actually happening. “I’m the one who has to go inside and speak to Jude Camden myself, unlike _you_.”

“Are you telling me that I can stay in the car while you speak to him?” Anthony asked, seeming to calm down.

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” said Jaren, feeling unusually fearful of his decision, but it was also protocol to ask questions to suspected people, and right now, one of the largest covens in the city didn’t look so hot when a newborn vampire has been unleashed to the public. Although, if anything...it was day time, and Jaren wasn’t certain if John would survive without yearning for the sun like most newborns usually did. He could end up finding his smoldering corpse like Donna Kay’s back in that alley.

He didn’t want that either. He disliked the thought of more bodies showing up here and there, even when it came from Werewolves, Vampires, or the Witches. He had to get this under control, and that meant not fucking panicking.

“We’re almost there,” Jaren said as a way to calm himself down. A few more blocks, and they were partially out of the city and toward a road that led to Jude Camden’s Vampire Clan. One of the prestigious clan’s in this area of the country. He has many places that he disappeared to during certain seasons, but from what Jaren knew, the murders in this city had stalled him from leaving. He was about to disembark until William Grey’s death was announced.

Then Donna Kay.

Jude, like the other vampire covens, had responsibilities to undertake, and since he was close to the Director of Orion, he decided to linger until the investigation was cleared. At least this is what Jaren was assuming.

They rounded several tall pine trees as the grey clouds thickened around them. It almost looked as if it were going to rain or snow soon. Either way, Jaren was still shaking in his body, fingers tightened on the steering wheel, heart thudding in his ears.

_Shit. I really hope this goes right or this might end up terrible._

He was not idealistically friends with any of the vampire covens. He rarely talked to them, but he knew them enough from photo’s, videos, and other sorts when he entered Orion, of who they were, and who he was either meant to avoid or not.

And as an investigator, Jaren was not supposed to waltz up to a Vampire leader’s incredibly nice estate, all white walls and black windows, covered in thick grey curtains. The entire structure was surrounded by a tall iron wrought fence with trees surrounding the area. From what he knew, there was an underground tunnel leading into the city, and one of them directly heading to Orion. Only Jude Camden, and another leader, was meant to know of its existence, and will authorized certain vampires to use the tunnels. Either that, the vampires could wander independently during the night without drinking the blood of the human civilians, nor fight amongst the other covens.

The gates opened for them as if they were expected. This idea didn’t sit well with Jaren as he drove into the courtyard of the estate.

“They do live well, don’t they,” said Anthony as he peered up at the incredibly white building.

“They’re immortals, I’m sure they have a lot they worked for over their long years,” Jaren said as he parked near the front steps. He sighed as he passed the keys to Anthony. “I’ll be out, don’t worry about me.”

“Oh, I won’t, but I’m sure the vampires will have fun with you,” Anthony said with a smile.

Jaren rolled his eyes then he got out of the car. The second he closed the door, his heart was hammering in his chest so loud he did not want the vampires to hear how nervous he felt, but now that there was no going back, he couldn’t ignore his duties to his work.

He took in a deep breath, then walked toward the smooth staircase to the top. The front door was a dark bronze with a silver handle. He thought of those horror books he used to read when he was young about Werewolves hating silver. He didn’t think Vampires disliked silver simply because they had it as their door knob.

Jaren knocked on the front door and waited for a few seconds, and right when he was about to knock again, the door opened to a woman with brown and grey hair, she wore a blue dress with silver lacings and brown flats. It seemed quite odd for this woman to wear these types of clothes while living with Vampires, but he didn’t want to judge outright simply because of her clothes.

“Jude’s expecting you,” the woman said before Jaren could ask for the Vampire leader.

“Uh, thank you,” said Jaren awkwardly as he stepped into the house once the woman widened the door for him.

Jaren wasn’t surprised by the absolute darkness inside the house. Although, in one room or another, there was light leaking past the thick grey drapes. Maybe it was for this woman in particular.

“I’m Rose, by the way, a friend of the family,” Rose said with a warm smile as she led Jaren down the hall.

“Jaren, I’m an investigator—”

“For Orion, yes, Jude did bring that up not too long ago,” Rose said. “He was almost waiting for someone to come and visit him ever since Donna was found.” The woman shook her head sadly, her brows were furrowed, and even her frown deepened with the grief she must be feeling.

“Yes, but there is more I wanted to speak with Jude about some other things besides...Donna,” said Jaren, hoping he wasn’t being insensitive about their loss. He wasn’t even sure if they felt it all that much simply because they were vampires, but that was his own ignorance.

Rose led him to a room to their left, and inside, Jaren’s heart raced, and he hated how the people within seemed to look either at their presence, or knowing he was nervous for being near any of them. He was not nervous, he was not...nervous...he was trying his hardest to believe that.

Rose placed a hand on Jaren’s arm, “They are kind people.” And with that, she left the room, and Jaren recalled the time when he had to stand at the front of the class during school, and present his damn work. This felt the same thing, but more dangerous and uncomfortable.

“You’re Jaren Smith?” Jude Camden asked. He was younger than what a Vampire Leader should look like. Although, the one before who ruled the _House of the One Eyed Raven_ could’ve died recently, but Jaren wasn’t sure what _recent_ meant when it came to the vampires.

Even from where Jaren stood, he knew Jude was taller than him, and he had short brown hair, while his face was pale with circles under his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks. He was pretty, and it wasn’t the kind of thought Jaren wanted to think about at the moment. Jude wore a white v-neck shirt with black pants, ripped at the knees, he didn’t wear socks. He looked like a teenager, riled up and ready for a night to party or other reckless actions one like him would get into.

Although, he was a vampire, so the way he stood didn’t seem like most humans. He was otherworldly, a power within him made his presence strong and less nervous than Jaren who gave an awkward nod.

“I’m here to ask you a question,” Jaren said, clearing his throat.

Jude nodded, glancing to his right to two other vampires. Jaren noticed them when he had first stepped inside, but they stood like statues. Still and quiet. They also kind of reminded him of spiders. You don’t really notice them since they blend into the dark walls and floors. And from Jaren’s recollection, these are the ones who accompanied Jude to Orion a day ago, the ones who were frightened by Brian’s presence.

They were staring at him, then glanced around the room as if they were waiting to see Brian, but they didn’t. Vampires didn’t sense Reapers, and truth be told, both species don’t give a shit about each other since one collects death, and the other species are in a stand still of death.

“I have my own inquiries as well,” Jude said as he walked over to Jaren, but he did keep his distance. There was an odd look on his face, almost interested yet confused. “Please, ask your question before I get into mine.”

“I was wondering if you knew the whereabouts of the newborn vampire, John Keyes?” That was the question he was here to ask, simple enough, he had tried to calm himself with how easy it could be. Now that he was here, it was a little odd, misplaced.

“The newborn sired by Sebastian Warren?” Jude asked, he wrinkled his nose, then stepped away from Jaren. “I don’t like being accused simply because the newborn is a vampire. I wouldn’t really call _him_ a vampire, he’s more accursed than the rest of us.”

At least Brian was right about the vampires’ opinion of John. They were disgusted by him, and for some reason, Jaren as well. At least Jude wasn’t too disrespectful besides giving them space to speak.

“I wasn’t accusing, I was only asking if you knew of his whereabouts,” said Jaren, trying to reel in a bit of self-control of his own vocabulary. He was allowed to bad talk others, but not the leaders of the vampire and werewolf covens.

Jude nodded. “My apologies. No. We haven’t seen him.”

Damn. So he wasn’t here. Or...he could be, but from the way Jude spoke about him, and the way he held himself before Jaren, he was telling the truth. Now what? Where could he be?

“What is the thing you...wanted to know about?” Jaren asked, trying his hardest not to be awkward. He was too awkward!

“Yes, I’ll be right back, I need to grab it from my office,” Jude said, taking another step back, then to the side, and he glanced toward the two vampires in the shadows. “Be nice.”

They watched Jude leave the room, and Jaren did not like the way he felt like a prey under the heavy gazes of the two vampires coming closer to him.

“You smell akin to possession,” the woman spoke. She had long black hair, light brown features with brown eyes. Her teeth were sharp like most vampires, and she wore a thin black shirt and jeans. Unlike Jude, she actually wore socks.

“Is it possession?” the other said. They both looked as young as Jude, the boy much younger, if he was human, he could be in his early twenties like Jaren. “Or hunger, or territory, or marked up.”

“I see no mark on him, Felix,” the woman said, stepping closer to Jaren. “I’m sorry for our perception of you, you’re quite unusual for a human with such a heavy, potent scent.”

“Janine and I have noticed this, alongside your odd friend, back at Orion,” Felix said.

_Brian._

“He’s a reaper, he doesn’t really have a scent,” said Jaren, watching them oddly as they circled him like vultures. They smelled him, brows furrowed, frowning, the both of them weren’t even sure what they were getting off of Jaren.

“A reaper?” Felix questioned, looking to his friend, Janine.

“Yes, those people… _things_...creatures from an empty plane of existence,” Janine said as she took a step back, then frowned at Jaren. “They take vampires whenever a vampire calls for them. Reapers don’t listen all that well, but they aren’t normally cruel.”

“He’s not human or vampire, or he is a vampire,” Felix said as he folded his arms.

_John? Are they talking about John now?_

“He’s a vampire, but something’s wrong about him. Fucking Sebastian did something,” Janine shook her head and glared at the floor. “There’s a claim on you, Jaren. You’re practically soaked in his scent. We might need something or someone to wash it out once you leave.”

“His blood would taste vile,” Felix whispered, making a disgusted expression at Jaren.

_Wait, what?_

The door to the room opened, and Jude sauntered inside, holding some kind of document in his hands. He waved nonchalantly at Felix and Janine, telling them to leave the room. They listened without argument, and as the door closed shut, Jude was once more standing before him, although taking another cautious step away from Jaren, and the odd scent coming off of him.

“I managed to get copies of the reports from the Director of Orion, he gladly helped me pay respects to Donna Kay,” Jude said, passing the files to Jaren. “I do have copies of these as well, so you can keep them.”

And possibly because the scent was now on the document, and Jude was way too quietly nice and insulting for his own good.

“Thank you,” said Jaren, opening the file to see Donna Kay’s face. She was a young brunette haired woman. As young as most vampires. She looked to be nineteen or twenty years old. Her true age is placed beside her physical age. Her smile is infectious, but who she was and everything else was now burned away, like it had taken William as well.

_What the hell was going on?_

“Jaren,” His name felt odd coming out of Jude’s mouth. “I liked to know more information about the fledgling. Whatever he is and what happened to William and Donna could happen to many more vampires and werewolves. I’d rather not have chaos interrupting the peace throughout the covens, and if this gets out of control, more could appear and ruin the stability that has been built in this city, and the country itself.”

This was a lot, but now that he was standing before Jude Camden, even when he spoke to Randall Carson, and the Witches who showed up at Orion. This was so much more than what Jaren had anticipated, and the nervousness returned.

“Of course, if anything major comes up, I’ll get authorization to inform you about this, if not, then you might hear a tip in the future,” said Jaren, trying his best to appease both of them.

Jude nodded. “Thank you for coming here, I won’t take the offence of the fledgling, it makes sense another vampire would release him during the day. If anything, it could’ve been Sebastian.”

“That’s one of the ideas, but Sebastian doesn’t know Orion ever since he lost…” Jaren stopped the moment Jude raised a hand before him.

“I know, no need to speak of it,” he dropped his hand to his side, “and I’ll keep an eye out for Sebastian if he ever shows up. Whatever he is doing, he can’t do it alone.”

Jaren was let out of the estate by Rose, and he walked on weak limbs to the car. Anthony was sleeping in the passenger seat, and he woke him up by tapping the window. He asked about what happened, but all Jaren could think of was coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of these OC's are inspired by real people. Janine was a friend of mine, I used to drink _(alcohol)_ with her. :) Jude and Felix are OC's. Rose is inspired by a woman I spoke to on the phone, she helped me figure shit out for paying bills. LOL.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.


	13. Expel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kryoz is brought to an underground area by the vampire, Basil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter. I love my oc, Basil. :)
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This chapter has not been edited.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.

“Where are we?” Kryoz asked, following behind the vampire named Basil. Since they met, Basil was careful with the instructions on how to avoid the sunlight. He explained that vampires burned when the sun hit them, a curse given to them by a witch when they were created.

Kryoz didn’t expect the history lesson when Basil started rambling off about it as if they were suddenly best friends. Was he always like this with newborn vampires? He was a little curious about the creation of vampires, but didn’t want Basil to continue his rambling, so he stayed quiet until now.

They entered another tunnel and for the next hour, they’ve been walking in relative silence besides sometimes Basil going off about something else that Kryoz _needed_ to know about.

“We,” Basil raised his finger to the cement ceiling above them, “are under the Weaver Coven’s headquarters.”

_Weaver Coven?_

“The what?” Kryoz asked. It’s not like he was told of everyone’s name in the city, or at least the ones he should now know about.

“Jen Weaver,” said Basil, looking over his shoulder at Kryoz. “She’s one of the vampire leaders in the city. Controls a section like the other leader, Jude Camden.”

“Why are we under her headquarters?”

“It’s easier to make phone calls in another vampire’s presence than it is to do it in a werewolf den or a witches’ circle, so we made this our home for now.”

We? There were more people underground. Well, it’s not like the vampires would suddenly go outside and burn in front of the human populace out of a bit of fun.

“Does she know you’re underneath her…?” Kryoz almost snickered at the question.

“She doesn’t need to know anything,” Basil answered pleasantly. “Like Orion doesn’t need to know who took you.”

“If you’re not...one of the so-called leaders in the city, then who are?”

Basil chuckled. “So many questions, I expect that from a newborn.” He pushed open a heavy metal door at the end, and when they both stepped through, Kryoz could smell a strange scent in the air. Both metal, rust, and something else, it was a little potent, like the blood capsules. Was there...blood somewhere close by? “Jen, to me, would be a new vampire in the group of leaders in the city.”

“Jude Camden’s older?”

“Older is an understatement when it comes to Jen Weaver,” Basil said, leading Kryoz along a thin walkway toward a metal incline to the main floor of this underground hideout. It was a large circular room with vents on either end, the scent of stagnant water sat in the air amongst other things. “William would’ve been the oldest amongst Jude and Sebastian, but William is now dead. So, Jude took that crowning place, then Sebastian would be...maybe a few hundred years younger, but still one of the strongest Vampires in the city. Then there’s Randall Carson, the new Werewolf leader of the Grey Coven, but compared to Devon Fairstone, it’s a laughable comparison.”

Right. He should be careful about the questions he asks, it seemed Basil just loved to talk.

“What about you?” Kryoz asked, then an awkwardness set in when he noticed three other people inside the room. They were quiet, and sitting far away from them, their eyes were placed on him as if he were a small mouse finally spotting predators.

“Don’t worry about them,” Basil said, sitting down on a stool he seemed to have stolen from a bar, and beside him was a round ornate black table with a glass decanter and two glasses. The decanter looked to be filled with blood. The smell of it made Kryoz’s mouth water, and he forced himself to look away. “I told them not to interrupt us while we talk.”

Kryoz glanced at them, before looking away, then noticing Basil pointing at the chair, and he sat down across from him, ignoring the decanter.

“Are you...old?” he grimaced at the question.

Basil laughed, the sound echoed in the room, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Don’t give me that look. It’s okay to say it, at least to a vampire. When you’ve been alive for a couple of centuries, you kind of have to develop a different attitude towards life.”

Couple of centuries is probably nothing to a vampire.

“How old are you then?”

Basil sighed, pouring the blood inside the decanter into one of the glasses on the table. “Let’s just say, John...is that all the vampires, werewolves, and witches are newborns to someone like me. Children fighting amongst each other, and the oldest siblings are trying their hardest to keep them in line, but the parent...I can see those lines fracturing.”

Kryoz swallowed thickly at that. It wasn’t really an answer, but it might as well be from the visual.

“So, you’re old?” Kryoz said, watching Basil set the decanter down.

“I’m old.” Basil picked up the glass and took a sip.

Okay then. What does that mean? Why was Kryoz here, why did Basil bring him to this place with three other vampires? He can smell their scent from where Kryoz was sitting, and maybe that’s from consuming the blood capsules. It’s not like he has anything to give them. So what if he was in Orion...oh shit, is that the reason why he was here.

Kryoz swallowed thickly, tapping his fingers lightly on the edge of the table. “What do you want with me?” he asked, trying his hardest not to want to believe the reality of why he was here.

Basil picked up the decanter again and poured the blood into the empty glass close to Kryoz. “I stole you away from your human companion because I’m curious about you, Kryoz.”

A centuries old...no...he was older, much older than five hundred years, or possibly a thousand, this old vampire...is curious about him?

He’s not honored by this, he’s petrified.

_What the hell was going on?_

“Curious about what?” Kryoz asked, watching Basil set the decanter down again, then gesturing to the glass.

“Isn’t it obvious, I want to know what Sebastian did to you.” He tapped the glass. “Have a drink, I’m sure you’ll need it with the conversation we’ll be having.”

Since being bit by a vampire, then throwing up so much blood, and having a taste from the capsules, he never actually...tasted a full cup of blood. It was...frightening to say the least. He didn’t want to hurt anyone if he got too out of control. And would he be able to control himself? Isn’t that the reason why Orion kept him for so long, to make sure he didn’t hurt anyone? What were they going to do once he was no longer useful? Ever since leaving Orion, he’s been feeling odd.

“Hey, you’re thinking too much,” Basil said, arching a brow at him. “It’s only blood. I had my friend, Skyler, grab some from Jen’s fridge.”

Kryoz glanced at a small pink haired girl who waved nonchalantly at them. He looked down at the glass, then tentatively picked it up. “You’re not poisoning me or something, right?”

“When has blood ever poisoned a vampire? Well...let’s not answer that, our system is dead, so we practically can taste whatever and get over it easily. Kinda like how animals can eat dead things, and humans can’t.”

“Cats can get sick if they eat something dead…”

“It’s incredibly selective, and right now, you’re a vampire in need of some blood, I can see you shaking.”

Kryoz glared halfheartedly at Basil, then he decided to just take a sip. Might as well see what he’s been missing. Kryoz took a sip from the glass, and felt his lip tingle, his heart racing, his body warming at the taste, then he took a longer sip.

It was better...than he would’ve liked.

No, it was amazing. It was like he stuffed his face with sweet berries and was getting sick from it. He drank the rest of the glass, and set it down, panting softly at the wired feeling he was getting in his head. He could possibly stay up for days if he drank simply blood.

Basil smiled. “You seem better than before, not so sluggish—” His smile frowned when Kryoz groaned, and only seemed to turn his head to the side in a curious way. “What’s wrong?”

No. It was like before when he tasted blood, when he had them in his throat and his body wouldn’t take it. This was wrong. Warning bells in his head. He was burning on the inside.

Kryoz choked, letting out a pained gasp, then he fell to the ground, ignoring the sharp pain in his knees, as he continued to choke and grunt, then the blood he had drank slipped out from his mouth, his throat burned as if it were scalding him from the inside, and hot tears ran down his cheeks as the blood became dark on the cement, a puddle, and he was shaking so badly.

Basil was out of his seat, grabbing the back of Kryoz’s shirt before he could fall into the mess. He still seemed curious, not as distraught, or disturbed like the other vampires in the room.

“That’s curious,” he said, mostly to himself, then he looked down at Kryoz. “Do you understand now? I want to know what Sebastian did to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of funny that I have a fc for Basil. And...literally...Basil is a character that I love. I might write him in another fics simply because I enjoy him, and I hate that I got rid of the original story that I had for him. :( Stupid people telling me not to write fantasy/supernatural stuff, so he'll be revived in fics, I guess. LOL.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.


	14. Necessary, Unecessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kryoz understands the dire importance of his creation.

“It’s strange,” Basil said.

Kryoz wiped the blood from his mouth. It was sticky, and drying on his hands and down his neck, staining his white shirt. The taste was raw in his throat, all heat and disturbing clumps lathering the back of his throat until it all slipped out on the concrete floor.

One of the three vampires had left their place against the wall and passed Kryoz a towel. He didn’t say anything, he had an empty gaze about him, then he walked back to the other two as if nothing happened.

Kryoz wiped off most of the blood from his face and heard a soft tapping sound. He peered up at Basil dialing a number on a phone. He gave him a small smile as he placed the phone to his ear.

“It’s a burner phone.”

Kryoz recognized the flip phone for what it was, and he struggled to stand to his feet when Basil greeted the person on the other end, and the voice itself was too keenly familiar.

_SMii7y?_

“He’s on the north end of town, if you look around, you might see him.” Basil hung up the phone and tossed it to the other end of the room, the other male vampire reached out and caught it. He turned right away and disappeared into a narrow tunnel.

“What are you doing?” Kryoz asked, trying to ignore the dizziness that almost brought him to his knees again. “Why did you tell him that?” He wanted to ask how Basil got his number, but since he met Basil, he was finding things out that Kryoz wasn’t sure if he wanted to know about.

“How about I tell you a little bit about Sebastian—”

“Why should I care about him?” Kryoz asked, finally getting to his feet.

“Well, Sebastian Warren is your sire, and he was once the head to House Phoenix, or the Phoenix Coven. The names are given either by a new leader or the old.” Basil waved his hand nonchalantly. “Phoenix belonged to Shane Lonechild, his middle name was Phoenix, so he used it as the name of his coven.”

Kryoz wasn’t sure if he cared. “What happened to him?”

“Shane died about four hundred years ago in a fire, it was a purge of vampires in one area of the country, and Shane died alongside half of his fledglings, while the other half scattered to the winds.”

“Sebastian is one of the fledglings?” Kryoz asked, then glared when Basil laughed. “What, what are you laughing about now?”

“Sebastian is a bit older than four hundred years, but he and Shane were good friends, so Sebastian honored his old friend and took over his coven, he even kept the name, at least until Phoenix became a dead coven about a year ago,” said Basil.

 _A year ago?_ Kryoz sat back down on the stool, ignoring the puddle of blood he had thrown up, and almost reached for Basil’s glass, except the vampire picked it up and took a sip. “What happened to his coven and everyone in it?”

“Infected by whatever Sebastian has within his blood.” Basil set the glass down and smiled softly at Kryoz. “They’re all dead from what I’ve heard, but from the looks of it, Sebastian’s been experimenting on certain people. Two are dead, and one survived the experiment, isn’t that interesting?”

Kryoz grimaced at Basil and his now traitorous smile that should look innocent, but isn’t. “Is that the reason why Orion has me locked away?”

“I wouldn’t say they wanted to keep you for long, but it could be a reason.”

“They already did tests on me.”

“Not a lot, I looked through the researcher’s notes already.” Basil wrinkled his nose and sat back. “The scent of death is going to lure out the shadows. Nonetheless, they have an inkling, but the full reason isn’t exactly...realized yet.”

“And what about you?”

“Well, it’s not like the werewolves or vampires want you, but I’m sure sooner or later, Orion will consult some witches.”

Kryoz blinked, then his mouth open fell open at the word. “They exist too?”

“What do you think created the vampires and werewolves? We didn’t just spawn from the crevices of hell for the mortal’s enjoyment once they all got bored with themselves.” Basil glanced down at the blood, his smile was faint as he seemed to be smelling it from where he was sitting. “Your blood, from what I could find out is quite lethal to vampires and werewolves, and your scent isn’t as interesting either, but it is potent once you end up covered in blood.”

Kryoz sighed. “That’s nice to know, I guess.” He actually didn’t understand why he was here with Basil. As the seconds ticked by, he was thinking maybe Basil was going to kill him. The person with SMii7y had said that the vampires would kill him eventually simply because he was some kind of abomination, then SMii7y had a wary expression when Kryoz asked if he’d let them kill him. He was meant to be reassured, but he wasn’t.

“Makes you an incredibly necessary but unnecessary fledgling, your sire is Sebastian Warren, but you’re also clueless of this world you now live in, and you’re having a glass of blood with me, the oldest vampire you’ll probably ever meet in your lifetime right next to the puddle you created simply for drinking my blood.”

“Your blood!” Kryoz grimaced at the puddle, then gave a disgusted look at Basil.

“You’re also incredibly disrespectful,” Basil said with a smile.

He was too oddly handsome in this dirty sewer he had found like some kind of common rat. And now he was either threatening Kryoz or trying to reassure him. Something SMii7y has been doing ever since he met him.

“It’s gross, that’s all,” said Kryoz, giving a vague shrug. He didn’t thirst for the blood as he would’ve thought, but there was still the hunger in him. It was softly clawing in his stomach, making its way up like stomach acid. Uncomfortable, unyielding, ready to be released from his throat. What did he want? And if he can’t live like all the vampires around him, then how was he going to live like this?

Basil hummed. “You know, this has been enlightening, and it is nice to meet you, John. Truly. You’re the first in such a grand creation, and I did have issues with how you’d be handled, but I think Orion can safely take care of you while I make sure Sebastian doesn’t create more.”

_More?_

“He’ll turn more humans?” Kryoz asked, sliding off the stool as Basil led him to the two vampires standing by the tunnel.

“He doesn’t even know you turned into a vampire, but once word starts to spread through the covens, he’ll surely find out one of the three survived.”

One of the three. “Who are they exactly…the ones who were bitten before me?”

“William Grey was the leader of the Grey Coven. He was a friend to many, incredibly well liked, and one of the eldests in the city. His coven has been taken over by his best friend, Randall Carson. Inheritance, if you will. Randall is his heir. Donna Kay is sired by Jude Camden, but I’m sure Sebastian wanted to turn the vampire leader, but she must’ve been walking alone when Sebastian found her. A shame, really.” He was shaking his head, brows pinched as if thinking of the ones he had brought up.

Kryoz was a little awkward that even though William had been the oldest, he had died by Sebastian, when Kryoz hadn’t. Including Donna Kay. It was...frightening how his life could be impacted once Sebastian finds out. If he ever does, and what would he do? Why did he even want to turn anyone else, they didn’t even survive the transformation.

“Skyler will take you to the Orion investigator, and I’m sure he’ll return you to Orion. I assure you, John, it’s better if you stay in their cell. If anyone knows about your existence, including Sebastian, then things won’t end well, it’ll probably make things worse.” Basil placed a hand on John’s shoulder then lightly pushed him toward the narrow tunnel where the girl with the pink hair led him through.

Ever since he threw up, his mouth has been dry, and he was really thirsty. Would the blood capsules help? He took one out from his pocket and placed it between his teeth, then bit down, letting the small bits of blood enter his mouth, easing the pain away, but it wasn’t enough. 

When would it be enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Shane came from my sister's brother. _(We're step siblings, so she has her own brothers on her dad's side.)_ She brought him up today, so I thought of using that. I also told her that I use some of her friends' names as side characters in my story, alongside her bf. LOL.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciated.


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